UC-NRLF 


am  ED? 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


Js^tlition$  in  ^Efjandsome  .S 


EACH  1  VOL.  12MO.,  $1.50  PER  VOL. 


RUTLEDGE. 


THE  SUTHERLANDS. 


ST.  PHILLIPS. 


FRANK  WARRINGTON. 
LOUIE'S  LAST  TERM. 
ROUNDHEARTS. 


A  ROSARY  FOR  LENT. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK, 


A  NOVEL. 


By    MRS.   SIDNEY    S.    HARRIS, 

AUTHOR  OP  "RUTLEDGE,"  "ST.  PHILLIPS, ' 
ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YOKE: 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER  &  COMPANY. 
1871. 

LIBRARY 

.UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


JOSEPH  J.  LITTLE, 

ELKCTROTYPKR,  STEREOTYPEE,  AND  PRINTER, 
NEW  YORK. 


To    S.    S.    H. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

VARICK-STREET « 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
VERY  GOOD  LUCK 16 

CHAPTER  III. 
KILIAN 23 

CHAPTER  IV. 
MY  COMPANIONS 36 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  TUTOR , 44 

CHAPTER  VI. 
MATINAL 58 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THREE  WEEKS  TOO  LATE 64 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
SUNDAY 85 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  DANCE 96 

CHAPTER  X 114 

CHAPTER  XI. 
SOPHIE'S  WORK 126 

CHAPTER  XII. 
PR^EMONITUS,  PR^EMUNITUS 147 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  WOKLD  GOES  OH  THE  SAME 168 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
GUARDED 173 

CHAPTER  XV. 
I  SHALL  HAVE  SEEN  HIM 195 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
AUGUST  THIRTIETH 205 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
BESIDE  HIM  ONCE  AGAIN 219 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
A  JOURNEY * 229 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
v   SISTER  MADELINE 243 

CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  HOUR  OP  DAWN 251 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
AFRES  PERDRE,  PERD  ON  BIEN 257 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  GREAT  DEAL  TOO  SOON 276 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  REVERSAL 284 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
MY  NEW  WORLD 297 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
BIEN  PERDU,  BIEN  CONNU 306 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  DINNER  . .  315 


RICHARD  VAJTOERMARCK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

VARICK     STREET. 

O  for  one  spot  of  living  green, 

One  little  spot  where  leaves  can  grow,- 
To  love  unblamed,  to  walk  unseen, 

To  dream  above,  to  sleep  below ! 


There  are  in  this  loud  stunning  tide, 

Of  human  care  and  crime, 
With  whom  the  melodies  abide 

Of  th'  everlasting  chime ; 

*  *  *  *          * 

And  to  wise  hearts  this  certain  hope  is  given ; 
"  No  mist  that  man  may  raise,  shall  hide  the  eye  of  Heaven." 

Keble. 

I  NEVER  knew  exactly  how  the  invitation  came ;  I 
felt  very  much  honored  by  it,  though  I  think  now, 
very  likely  the  honor  was  felt  to  be  upon  the  other 
side.  I  was  exceedingly  young,  and  exceedingly 
ignorant,  not  seventeen,  and  an  orphan,  living  in  the 


8  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

house  of  an  uncle,  an  unmarried  man  of  nearly  seventy, 
wholly  absorbed  in  business,  and  not  much  more  in 
terested  in  me  than  in  his  clerks  and  servants. 

I  had  come  under  his  protection,  a  little  girl  of  two 
years  old,  and  had  been  in  his  house  ever  since.  I 
had  had  as  good  care  as  a  very  ordinary  class  of  serv 
ants  could  give  me,  and  was  supplied  with  some  one 
to  teach  me,  and  had  as  much  money  to  spend  as  was 
good  for  me — perhaps  more ;  and  I  do  not  feel  in 
clined  to  say  my  uncle  did  not  do  his  duty,  for  I  do 
not  think  he  knew  of  anything  further  to  do ;  and 
strictly  speaking,  I  had  no  claim  on  him,  for  I  was 
only  a  great-niece,  and  there  were  those  living  who 
were  more  nearly  related  to  me,  and  who  were 
abundantly  able  to  provide  for  me,  if  they  had  been 
willing  to  do  it. 

When  I  came  in  to  the  household,  its  wants  were 
attended  to  by  a  cook  and  a  man-servant,  who  had 
lived  many  years  with  my  uncle.  A  third  person  was 
employed  as  my  nurse,  and  a  great  deal  of  quarrelling 
was  the  result  of  her  coming.  I  quite  wonder  my 
uncle  did  not  put  me  away  at  board  somewhere, 
rather  than  be  disturbed.  But  in  truth,  I  do  not 
believe  that  the  quarrelling  disturbed  him  much,  or 
that  he  paid  much  attention  to  the  matter,  and  so  the 
matter  settled  itself.  My  nurses  were  changed  very 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  9 

often,  by  will  of  the  cook  and  old  Peter,  and  I  never 
was  happy  enough  to  have  one  who  had  very  high 
principle,  or  was  more  than  ordinarily  good-tempered. 

I  don't  know  who  selected  my  teachers ;  probably 
they  applied  for  employment  and  were  received.  They 
were  very  business-like  and  unsuggestive  people.  I 
was  of  no  more  interest  to  them  than  a  bale  of  goods, 
I  believe.  Indeed,  I  seemed  likely  to  go  a  bale  of 
goods  through  life ;  everything  that  was  done  for  me 
was  done  for  money,  and  with  a  view  to  the  benefit  of 
the  person  serving  me.  I  was  not  sent  to  school,  which 
was  a  very  great  pity ;  it  was  owing  to  the  fact,  no 
doubt,  that  somebody  applied  to  my  urcle  to  teach 
me  at  home,  and  so  the  system  was  inaugurated,  and 
never  received  a  second  thought,  and  I  went  on  being 
taught  at  home  till  I  was  seventeen. 

The  "  home"  was  as  follows ;  a  large  dark  house  on 
the  unsunny  side  of  a  dull  street;  furniture  that  had 
not  been  chang0  for  forty  years,  walls  that  were 
seldom  repainted,  windows  that  were  rarely  opened. 
The  neighborhood  had,  been  for  many  years  unfash 
ionable  and  undesirable,  and,  by  the  time  I  was  grown 
up,  nobody  would  have  lived  in  it,  who  had  cared  to 
have  a  cheerful  home,  I  might  almost  have  said,  a 
respectable  one.  I  fancy  ours  was  nearly  the  only 
House  in  the  block  occupied  by  its  owner ;  the  others, 


10  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

equally  large,  were  rented  for  tenement  houses,  or 
boarding-houses,  and  perhaps  for  many  things  worse. 
It  was  probably  owing  to  this  fact,  that  my  uncle 
gave  orders,  once  for  all,  I  was  never  to  go  into  the 
street  alone ;  and  I  believe,  in  my  whole  life,  I  had 
never  taken  a  walk  unaccompanied  by  a  servant,  or 
one  of  my  teachers. 

A  very  dull  life  indeed.  I  wonder  how  I  endured 
it.  The  rooms  were  so  dismal,  the  windows  so  un 
eventful.  If  it  had  not  been  for  a  room  in  the  garret 
where  I  had  my  playthings,  and  where  the  sun  came 
all  day  long,  I  am  sure  I  should  have  been  a  much 
worse  and  more  unhappy  child.  As  I  grew  older,  I 
tried  to  adorn  my  room  (my  own  respectable  sleeping 
room,  I  mean),  with  engravings,  and  the  little  orna 
ments  that  I  could  buy.  But  it  was  a  hopeless  at 
tempt.  The  walls  were  so  high  and  so  dingy,  the 
little  pictures  were  lost  upon  them  ;  and  the  vases  on 
the  great  black  mantel-shelf  looked  so  insignificant,  I 
felt  ashamed  of  them,  and  owned  the  unfitness  of 
decorating  such  a  room.  No  flowers  would  grow  in 
those  cold  north  windows — no  bird  would  sing  in 
sight  of  such  a  street.  I  gave  it  up  with  a  sigh  ;  and 
there  was  one  good  instinct  lost. 

When  I  was  about  eleven,  I  fell  foul  of  some  good 
books.  If  it  had  not  been  for  them,  I  truly  do  not 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  H 

see  how  I  could  have  known  that  I  was  not  to  lie  or 
steal,  and  that  God  was  to  be  worshipped.  Certainly, 
I  had  had  my  hands  slapped  many  times  for  taking 
things  I  had  been  forbidden  to  touch,  and  had  had 
many  a  battle  in  consequence  of  "telling  stories," 
with  the  servants  of  the  house,  but  I  had  always 
recognized  the  personal  spite  of  the  punishments,  and 
they  had  not  carried  with  them  any  moral  lesson. 

I  had  sometimes  gone  to  church  ;  but  the  sermons 
in  large  city  churches  are  not  generally  elementary, 
and  I  did  not  understand  those  that  I  heard  at  all. 
Occasionally  I  went  with  the  nurse  to  Yespers,  and 
that  I  thought  delightful.  I  was  enraptured  with  the 
pictures,  the  music,  the  rich  clothes  of  the  priests ;  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  bad  odor  of  the  neighboring 
worshippers,  I  think  I  might  have  rushed  into  the 
bosom  of  the  Church  of  Home.  But  that  offended 
sense  restrained  me.  And  so,  as  I  said,  if  I  had  not 
obtained  access  to  some  books  of  holy  and  pure  influ 
ence,  and  been  starved  by  the  dullness  of  the  life 
around  me  into  taking  hold  of  them  with  eagerness, 
I  should  have  led  the  life  of  a  little  heathen  in  the 
midst  of  light.  Of  course  the  books  were  not  written 
for  my  especial  case,  nor  were  they  books  for  children, 
—  and  so,  much  was  supposed,  and  not  expressed,  and 
consequently  the  truth  they  imparted  to  me  was  but 


12  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

fragmentary.  But  it  was  truth,  and  the  influence 
was  holy. 

I  was  driven  to  books ;  I  do  not  believe  I  had  any 
more  desire  than  most  vivid,  palpitating,  fluttering 
young  things  of  my  sex,  to  pore  over  a  dull  black  and 
white  page ;  but  this  black  and  white  gate  opened  to 
me  golden  fields  of  happiness,  while  I  was  perishing 
of  hunger  in  a  life  of  dreary  fact. 

"When  I  was  about  sixteen,  however,  an  outside 
human  influence,  not  written  in  black  and  white, 
came  into  the  current  of  my  existence.  About  that 
time,  my  uncle  took  into  his  firm,  as  junior  partner,  a 
young  man  who  had  long  been  a  clerk  in  the  house. 
After  his  promotion  he  often  came  home  with  my  uncle 
to  dinner.  I  think  this  was  done,  perhaps,  Vith  a  view 
of  civil  treatment,  on  the  first  occasion ;  but  after 
ward,  it  was  continued  because  my  uncle  could  not 
bear  to  leave  business  when  he  left  the  oflfice,  and  be 
cause  he  could  talk  on  the  matters  which  were  dearer 
to  him  than  his  dinner,  with  this  junior,  in  whom  hb 
took  unqualified  delight.  He  often  wrote  letters  in 
the  evening,  which  my  uncle  dictated,  and  he  some 
times  did  not  go  away  till  eleven  o'clock  at  night. 
The  first  time  he  came,  I  did  not  notice  him  very 
much.  It  was  not  unusual  for  Uncle  Leonard  to  be 
accompanied  by  some  gentleman  who  talked  business 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK.  13 

with  him  during  dinner;  and  being  naturally  shy, 
and  moreover,  on  this  occasion,  in  the  middle  of  a 
very  interesting  book,  at  once  timid  and  indiffer 
ent,  I  slipped  away  from  the  table  the  moment  that 
I  could.  But  upon  the  third  or  fourth  occasion  of 
his  being  there,  I  became  interested,  finding  often  a 
pair  of  handsome  eyes  fixed  on  me,  and  being  occa 
sionally  addressed  and  made  a  partner  in  the  conver 
sation.  Uncle  Leonard  very  rarely  talked  to  me,  and 
I  think  found  me  in  the  way  when  Richard  Yander- 
marck  made  the  talk  extend  to  me. 

But  this  was  the  beginning  of  a  very  much  im 
proved  era  for  me.  I  lost  my  shyness,  and  my  fear  of 
Uncle  Leonard,  and  indeed,  I  think,  my  frantic  thirst 
for  books,  and  became  quite  a  young  lady.  We  were 
great  friends ;  he  brought  me  books,  he  told  me  about 
other  people,  he  opened  a  thousand  doors  of  interest 
and  pleasure  to  me.  I  never  can  enumerate  all  I 
owed  to  him.  My  dull  life  was  changed,  and  the 
house  owed  him  gratitude. 

We  began  to  have  the  gas  lighted  in  the  parlor,  and 
even  Uncle  Leonard  came  in  there  sometimes  and  sat 
after  dinner,  before  he  went  up  into  that  dreary  library 
above.  I  think  he  rather  enjoyed  hearing  us  talk 
gayly  across  his  sombre  board ;  he  certainly  became 
softer  and  more  human  toward  me  after  Richard  came 


14  RICHARD  VANDERMARCR. 

to  be  so  constantly  a  guest.  He  gave  me  more  money 
to  spend,  (that  was  always  the  expression  of  his  feel 
ings,  his  language,  so  to  speak;)  he  made  various 
inquiries  and  improvements  about  the  house.  The 
dinners  themselves  were  improved,  for  a  horrible 
monotony  had  crept  into  the  soups  and  sauces  of  forty 
years ;  and  Uncle  Leonard  was  no  epicure  ;  he  seemed 
to  have  no  more  stomach  than  he  had  heart ;  brain 
and  pocket  made  the  man. 

I  think  unconsciously  he  was  much  influenced  by 
Kichard,  whose  business  talent  had  charmed  him,  and 
to  whom  he  looked  for  much  that  he  knew  he  must 
soon  lose.  He  was  glad  to  make  the  house  seem 
pleasant  to  him,  and  he  was  much  gratified  by  his  fre 
quent  coming.  And  Kichard  was  peculiarly  a  man 
to  like  and  to  lean  upon.  Not  in  any  way  brilliant, 
and  with  no  literary  tastes,  he  was  well  educated 
enough,  and  very  well  informed  ;  a  thorough  business 
man.  I  think  he  was  ordinarily  reserved,  but  our 
intercourse  had  been  so  unconventional,  that  I  did 
not  think  him  so  at  all.  He  was  rather  good-looking, 
tall  and  square-shouldered,  with  light-brown  hair  and 
fine  dark-blue  eyes ;  he  had  a  great  many  points  of 
advantage. 

One  day,  long  after  he  had  become  almost  a  mem 
ber  of  the  household,  he  told  me  he  wanted  me  to 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  15 

know  his  sister,  and  that  she  would  come  the  next 
day  to  see  me,  if  I  would  like  it.  I  did  like  it,  and 
waited  for  her  with  impatience.  He  had  told  me  a 
great  d6al  about  her,  and  I  was  full  of  curiosity  to  see 
her.  She  was  a  little  older  than  Richard,  and  the  only 
sister ;  very  pretty,  and  quite  a  person  of  consequence 
in  society.  She  had  made  an  unfortunate  marriage, 
though  of  that  Richard  said  very  little  to  me ;  but 
with  better  luck  than  attends  most  unfortunately-mar 
ried  women,  she  was  released  by  her  husband's  early 
death,  and  was  free  to  be  happy  .again,  with  some 
pretty  boys,  a  moderate  fortune,  and  two  brothers  to 
look  after  her  investments,  and  do  her  little  errands 
for  her.  She  considered  herself  fortunate ;  and  was  a 
widow  of  rare  discretion,  in  that  she  was  wedded  to 
her  unexpected  independence,  and  never  intended  to 
be  wedded  to  anything  or  anybody  else.  She  was 
naturally  cool  and  calculating,  and  was  in  no  danger 

t» 

of  being  betrayed  by  her  feelings  into  any  other 
course  of  life  than  the  one  she  had  marked  out  as 
most  expedient.  If  she  was  worldly,  she  was  also  use 
ful,  intelligent,  and  popular,  and  a  paragon  in  her 
brother's  partial  eyes. 


CHAPTER  II. 

VERY   GOOD   LUCK. 
Mieux  vaut  une  once  de  fortune  qu'une  livre  de  sagesse. 

AT  last  (on  the  day  on  which  Richard  had  adver 
tised  me  she  was  coming,)  the  door  was  opened,  and 
some  one  was  taken  to  the  parlor.  Then  old  Peter 
rang  a  bell  which  stood  on  the  hall  table,  and  called 
out  to  Ann  Coddle  (once  my  nurse,  now  the  seam 
stress,  chambermaid,  and  general  lightener  of  his 
toils),  to  tell  Miss  Pauline  a  lady  wanted  her. 

This  bell  was  to  save  his  old  bones  ;  he  never  went 
up-stairs,  and  he  resented  every  visitor  as  an  innova 
tion.  They  were  so  few,  his  temper  was  not  much 
tried.  I  was  leaning  over  the  stairs  when  the  bell 
rang,  and  did  not  need  a  second  message.  Ann,  who 
continued  to  feel  a  care  for  my  personal  appearance, 
followed  me  to  the  landing-place  and  gave  my  sash 
a  last  pull. 

"When  I  found  myself  in  the  parlor  I  began  to  ex 
perience  a  little  embarrassment.  Mrs.  Hollenbeck 
was  so  pretty  and  her  dress  was  so  dainty,  the  dingy, 
stiff,  old  parlor  filled  me  with  dismay.  Fortunately, 
I  did  not  think  much  of  myself  or  my  own  dress. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  17 

But  after  a  little,  she  put  me  at  ease,  that  is,  drew  me 
out  and  made  me  feel  like  talking  to  her. 

I  admired  her  very  much,  but  I  did  not  feel  any  of 
the  affection  and  quick  cordiality  with  which  Kichard 
had  inspired  me.  I  could  tell  that  she  was  curious 
about  me,  and  was  watching  me  attentively,  and 
though  she  was  so  charming  that  I  felt  flattered  by 
her  interest,  I  was  not  pleased  when  I  remembered 
my  interview  with  her. 

"You  are  not  at  all  like  your  brother,"  I  said, 
glancing  in  her  face  with  frankness. 

"  No  ?"  she  said  smilingly,  and  looking  attentively 
at  me  with  an  expression  which  I  did  not  understand, 

And  then  she  drew  me  on  to  speak  of  all  his  fea 
tures,  which  I  did  with  the  utmost  candor,  showing 
great  knowledge  of  the  subject. 

"  And  you,"  she  said,  "  you  do  not  look  at  all  as  I 
supposed.  You  are  not  nearly  so  young — Kichard 
told  me  you.  were  quite  a  child.  I  was  not  prepared 
for  this  grace ;  this  young  ladyhood — '  cette  taille  de 
palmier,' "  she  added,  with  a  little  sweep  of  the  hand. 

Somehow  I  was  not  pleased  to  feel  that  Kichard 
had  talked  of  me  to  her,  though  I  liked  it  that  he  had 
talked  of  her  to  me.  IsTo  doubt  she  saw  it,  for  I  was 
lamentably  transparent.  "  Do  you  lead  a  quiet  life, 
or  have  you  many  friends  ?"  she  said,  as  if  she  did  not 


18  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

know  exactly  the  kind  of  life  I  led,  and  as  if  she  had 
not  come  for  the  express  purpose  of  helping  me  out 
of  it,  at  the  instance  of  her  kindly  brother.  Then,  of 
course,  I  told  her  all  about  my  dull  days,  and  she 
pitied  me,  and  said  lightly  it  must  not  be,  and  I  must 
see  more  of  the  world,  and  she,  for  her  part,  must 
know  me  better,  etc.,  etc.  And  then  she  went  away. 

In  a  few  days,  I  went  with  Ann  Coddle,  in  a  car 
riage,  to  return  the  visit.  The  house  was  small,  but 
in  a  beautiful,  bright  street,  and  the  one  window 
near  the  door  was  full  of  ferns  and  ivies.  I  did  not 
get  in,  which  was  a  disappointment  to  me,  particularly 
as  I  had  no  printed  card,  and  realized  keenly  all  the 
ignominy  of  leaving  one  in  writing.  This  was  in 
April,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  my  new  friend.  Richard 
was  away,  on  some  business  of  the  firm,  and  the  days 
were  very  dull  indeed. 

In  May  he  came  back,  and  resumed  the  dinners,  and 
the  evenings  in  the  parlor,  though  not  quite  with  the 
frequency  of  the  past  winter, — and  I  think  there  was 
the  least  shade  of  constraint  in  his  manner.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  May  days  that  he  came  and  took  me 
to  the  Park.  It  was  a  great  occasion ;  I  had  never 
been  so  happy  before  in  my  life.  I  was  in  great 
doubt  about  taking  Ann  Coddle ;  never  having  been 
out  of  the  house  without  a  person  of  that  description 

••• 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  19 

in  attendance  before.  But  Ann  got  a  suspicion  of 
my  doubt  and  settled  it,  to  go — of  course.  I  think 
Richard  was  rather  chagrined  when  she  followed  us 
out  to  get  into  the  carriage ;  she  was  so  dried-up  and 
shrewish-looking,  and  wore  such  an  Irish  bonnet. 
But  she  preserved  a  discreet  silence,  and  looked  stead 
fastly  out  of  the  carriage  window,  so  we  soon  forgot 
that  she  was  ther'e,  though  she  was  directly  opposite 
to  us.  It  was  Saturday ;  the  day  was  fresh  and  lovely, 
and  there  were  crowds  of  people  driving  in  the  Park. 
Once  we  left  the  carriage  with  Ann  Coddle  in  it,  and 
went  to  hear  the  music.  It  was  while  we  were  sit 
ting  for  a  few  moments  under  the  vines  to  listen  to  it, 
and  watch  the  gay  groups  of  people  around  us,  that  a 
carriage  passed  within  a  dozen  feet,  and  a  lady  leaned 
out  and  bowed  with  smiles. 

"  Why,  see — it  is  your  sister  !"  I  exclaimed,  with 
the  vivacity  of  a  person  of  a  very  limited  acquaint 
ance. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  and  raised  his  hat  carelessly.  But  I 
saw  he  was  not  pleased ;  he  pushed  the  end  of  his 
moustache  into  his  mouth,  and  bit  it,  as  he  always  did 
when  "out  of  humor,  and  very  soon  proposed  we 
should  go  back  and  find  the  carriage.  It  was  not 
long,  however,  before  he  recovered  from  this  annoy 
ance,  as  he  had  from  the  unexpected  pleasure  of  Ann's 


20  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

company ;  and,  I  am  sure,  was  as  sorry  as  I  when  it 
was  time  to  go  home  to  dinner. 

He  stayed  and  dined  with  us ;  another  gentleman 
had  come  home  with  my  uncle,  who  talked  well  and 
amused  us  very  much.  I  was  excited  and  in  high 
spirits ;  altogether,  it  was  a  very  happy  day. 

It  was  more  than  a  week  after  this,  that  the  invita 
tion  came  which  turned  the  world  upside  down  at 
once,  and  made  me  most  extravagantly  happy.  It 
was  from  Mrs.  Hollenbeck,  and  I  was  asked  to  spend 
part  of  June  and  all  of  July  and  August,  with  them 
at  E . 

At  R was  their  old  family  home,  a  place  of 

very  little  pretension,  but  to  which  they  were  much 
attached.  When  the  father  died,  five  years  before,  the 
two  sons  had  bought  the  place,  or  rather  had  taken  it 
as  their  share,  turning  over  the  more  productive  pro 
perty  to  their  sister. 

They  had  been  very  reluctant  to  close  the  house, 
and  it  was  decided  that  Sophie  should  go  there  every 
summer,  and  take  her  servants  from  the  city ;  the 
expenses  of  the  place  being  borne  by  the  two  young 
men.  They  were  very  well  able  to  do  it,  as  both 
were  successful  in  business,  and  keeping  open  the 
old  home,  with  no  diminution  of  the  hospitality  of 
their  father's  time,  was  perhaps  the  greatest  pleasure 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  21 

that  they  had.  It  was  an  arrangement  which  suited 
Sophie  admirably.  It  gave  her  the  opportunity  to 
entertain  pleasantly  and  informally ;  it  was  a  capital 
summer-home  for  her  two  boys  ;  it  was  in  the  centre 
of  an  agreeable  neighborhood  ;  and  above  all,  it  gave 
her  yearly-exhausted  purse  time  to  recuperate  and 
swell  again  before  the  winter's  drain.  Of  course  she 
loved  the  place,  too,  but  not  with  the  simple  affection 
that  her  two  brothers  did.  The  young  men  invited 
their  friends  there  without  restriction,  as  was  to  be 
supposed ;  and  Sophie  was  a  gay  and  agreeable  host 
ess.  No  one  could  have  made  the  house  pleasanter 
than  she  did ;  and  she  left  nothing  undone  to  gratify 
her  brothers'  tastes  and  wishes,  like  a  wise  and  pru 
dent  woman  as  she  was. 

I  did  not  know  all  this  then,  or  my  invitation 
might  not  have  overwhelmed  me  with  such  gratitude 
to  her.  I  reproached  myself  for  not  having  loved  her 
the  first  time  I  saw  her. 

Three  months !  Three  happy  months  in  the  coun 
try  !  I  could  hardly  believe  it  possible  such  a  thing 
had  happened  to  me.  I  took  the  note  to  my  uncle 
without  much  fear  of  his  opposition,  for  he  rarely  op 
posed  anything  that  I  had  the  courage  to  ask  him,  ex 
cept  going  in  the  street  alone.  (I  believe  my  mother 
had  made  a  runaway  match,  and  I  think  he  had  faith 


22  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

in  inherited  traits ;  his  one  resolution  regarding  me 
must  have  been,  not  to  give  me  a  chance.)  He  read 
the  note  carefully,  and  then  looked  me  over  with 
more  interest  than  usual,  and  told  me  I  might  go. 
Afterward  he  gave  me  a  roll  of  bills,  and  told  me  to 
come  to  him  for  more  money,  if  I  needed  it. 

I  was  much  excited  about  my  clothes.     I  could  not 

think  that  anything  was  good  enough  to  go  to  R ; 

and  I  am  afraid  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  uncle's 
money.  Ann  Coddle  and  the  cook  thought  that  my 
dresses  were  magnificent,  and  old  Peter  groaned  over 
the  coming  of  the  packages.  I  had  indeed  a  wardrobe 
fit  for  a  young  princess,  and  in  very  good  taste  besides, 
because  I  was  born  with  that.  An  inheritance,  no 
doubt.  And  my  uncle  never  complained  at  all  about  the 
bills.  I  seemed  to  have  become,  in  some  way,  a  per- 
son  of  considerable  importance  in  the  house.  Ann 
Coddle  no  more  fretted  at  me,  but  waited  on  me  with 
alacrity.  The  cook  ceased  to  bully  rue,  and  on  the 
contrary,  flattered  me  outrageously.  I  remembered 
the  long  years  of  bullying,  and  put  no  faith  in  her 
assurances.  I  did  not  know  exactly  why  this  change 
had  happened,  but  supposed  it  might  be  the  result  of 
having  become  a  young  lady,  and  being  invited  to  pay 
visits. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

KILIAN. 

You  are  well  made— have  common  sense, 

And  do  not  want  for  impudence. 

Faust. 

Tanto  buen  cJie  val  niente. 
Uh  sot  trouve  toujours  un  plus  sot  qui  V admire. 

THE  packages  finally  ceased  coming  and  the  stiff 
old  bell  from  being  pulled  ;  but  only  half  an  hour  be 
fore  the  carriage  drove  to  the  door  that  .was  to  take 
me  to  the  boat.  Ann  Coddle  was  flying  up  and  down 
the  stairs,  and  calling  messages  over  to  Peter  in  a 
shrill  voice.  She  was  not  designed  by  nature  for  a 
lady's  maid,  and  was  a  very  disagreeable  person  to 
have  about  one's  room.  She  made  me  even  more 
nervous  than  I  should  otherwise  have  been.  I  had 
never  packed  a  trunk  before,  or  had  one  packed,  and 
might  have  thought  it  a  very  simple  piece  of  business 
if  Ann  had  not  made  such  a  mountain  of  it ;  packing 
every  tray  half  a  dozen  times  over,  and  going  down 
stairs  three  times  about  every  article  that  was  to  come 
up  from  the  laundry. 


24  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

Happily  she  was  not  to  go  with  me  any  farther 
than  the  boat.  Richard  was  away  again  on  business 
— had  been  gone,  indeed,  since  the  day  after  we  had 
driven  in  the  Park :  so  I  was  to  be  put  on  board  the 
boat,  and  left  in  charge  of  Kilian,  his  younger  brother, 
who  had  called  at  my  uncle's  office,  and  made  the 
arrangement  with  him.  I  had  never  seen  Kilian,  and 
the  meeting  filled  me  with  apprehension ;  my  uncle, 
however,  sent  up  one  of  his  clerks  in  the  carriage  to 
take  me  to  the  boat,  and  put  me  in  charge  of  this  young 
gentleman.  This  considerate  action  on  the  part  of 
my  uncle  seemed  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  my  surprises. 

When  we  reached  the  boat,  the  clerk,  a  respectful 
youth,  conducted  me  to  the  upper  deck,  and  then  left 
me  with  Ann,  while  he  went  down  about  the  baggage. 

With  all  our  precautions,  we  were  rather  late,  for  the 

r 

last  bell  was  ringing ;  Ann  was  in  a  fever  of  impatience, 
and  I  was  quite  uncertain  what  to  do,  the  clerk  not 
having  returned,  and  Mr.  Kilian  Vandermarck  not 
having  yet  appeared.  Ann  was  so  disagreeable,  and 
so  disturbing  to  all  thinking,  that  I  had  more  than 
once  to  tell  her  to  be  quiet.  Matters  seemed  to  have 
reached  a  crisis.  The  man  at  the  gangway  was  shout 
ing  "  all  aboard ; "  the  whistle  was  blowing  ;  the  bell 
was  ringing ;  Arm  was  whimpering ;  when  a  belated- 
looking  young  man  with  a  book  and  paper  under  his 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  25 

arm  came  up  the  stairs  hurriedly  and  looked  around 
with  anxiety.  As  soon  as  his  eye  fell  on  us,  he 
looked  relieved,  and  walked  directly  up  to  me,  and 
called  me  by  name,  interrogatively. 

"  O  yes,"  I  said  eagerly,  "  but  do  get  this  woman 
off  the  boat  or  we'll  have  to  take  her  with  us."  "  Oh, 
no  danger,"  he  said,  "  plenty  of  time,"  and  he  took  her 
toward  the  stairs,  at  the  head  of  which  she  was  met 
by  the  clerk,  who  touched  his  hat  to  me,  handed  the 
checks  to  Mr.  Yandermarck,  then  hurried  off  with  Ann. 
Mr.  Yandermarck  returned  to  me,  but  I  was  so  en 
grossed  looking  over  the  side  of  the  boat  and  watching 
for  Ann  and  the  clerk,  that  I  took  no  notice  of  him. 

At  last  I  saw  Ann  scramble  on  the  wharf,  just  be 
fore  the  plank  was  drawn  in  ;  with  a  sigh  of  relief  I 
turned  away. 

"  I  want  to  apologize  for  being  so  late,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  it  is  not  any  matter,"  I  answered,  "  only  I 
had  not  the  least  idea  what  to  do." 

"You  are  not  used  to  travelling  alone,  then,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  Oh  no,"  nor  to  travelling  any  way,  for  the  matter 
of  that,  I  added  to  myself;  but  not  aloud,  for  I  had 
a  great  fear  that  it  should  be  known  how  very  limited 
my  experience  was. 

"  You  must  let  me  take  your  shawl  and  bag,  and  we 

2 


26  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

will  go  and  get  a  comfortable  seat,"  he  said  in  a  few 
moments.  We  went  forward  and  found  comfortable 
chairs  under  an  awning,  and  where  there  was  a  fine 
breeze.  It  was  a  warm  afternoon,  and  the  change 
from  the  heated  and  glaring  wharf  was  delightful. 
Mr.  Yandermarck  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  with 
an  expression  of  relief,  and  took  off  his  straw  hat. 

"  If  you  had  been  in  Wall-street  since  ten  o'clock 
this  morning  you  would  be  prepared  to  enjoy  this 
sail,"  he  said. 

"Is  Wall-street  so  very  much  more  disagreeable 
than  other  places?  I  think  my  uncle  regrets  every 
moment  that  he  spends  away  from  it." 

"  Ah,  yes.  Mr.  Greer  may ;  he  has  a  good  deal  to 
make  him  like  it ;  if  I  made  as  much  money  as  he 
does  every  day  there,  I  think  it's  possible  I  might  like 
it  too.  But  it  is  a  different  matter  with  a  poor  devil 
like  me :  if  I  get  off  without  being  cheated  out  of  all 
I've  got,  it  is  as  much  as  I  can  ask." 

"Well,  perhaps  when  he  was  your  age,  Uncle 
Leonard  did  not  ask  more  than  that." 

"  Not  he ;  he  began,  long  before  he  was  as  old  as  I 
am,  to  do  what  I  can  never  learn  to  do,  Miss  d'Estree — 
make  money  with  one  hand  and  save  it  with  the 
other.  Now,  I'm  ashamed  to  say,  a  great  deal  of 
money  comes  into  my  pockets,  but  it  never  stays 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  27 

there  long  enough  to  give  me  the  feeling  that  I'm  a 
rich  man.  One  gets  into  a  way  of  living  that's 
destruction  to  all  chances  of  a  fortune." 

"But  what's  the  good  of  a  fortune  if  you  don't 
enjoy  it  ? "  I  said,  thinking  of  the  dreary  house  in 
Yarick-street. 

"Itfo  good,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  in  my  nature  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  knowledge  that  I've  got  enough  to 
make  me  happy  locked  up  somewhere  in  a  safe :  I 
must  get  it  out,  and  strew  it  around  in  sight  in  the 
shape  of  horses,  pictures,  nice  rooms,  and  good  things 
to  eat,  before  I  can  make  up  my  mind  that  the  money 
is  good  for  anything.  Now  as  to  Richard,  he  is  just 
the  other  way:  old  head  on  young  shoulders,  old 
pockets  in  young  breeches  (only  there  ar'nt  any  holes 
in  them).  He's  a  model  of  prudence,  is  my  brother 
Richard.  Qui  garde  son  diner,  il  a  mieux  d  souper. 
He'll  be  a  rich  man  one  of  these  fine  days.  I  look  to 
him  to  keep  me  -out  of  jail.  You  know  Richard 
very  well,  I  believe  \ "  he  said,  turning  a  sudden  look 
on  me,  which  would  have  been  very  disconcerting  to 
an  older  person,  or  one  more  acquainted  with  the 
world. 

"  O,  very  well  indeed,"  I  said  with  great  simplicity. 
"  You  know  he  is  such  a  favorite  with  my  uncle,  and 
he  is  a  great  deal  at  the  house," 


28    .  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

u  Well  he  may  be  a  favorite,  for  he  is  built  exactly 
on  his  model ;  at  seventy,  if  I  am  not  hung  for  debt 
before  I  reach  it,  I  shall  look  to  see  him  just  a  second 
Mr.  Leonard  Greer." 

I  made  a  gesture  of  dissent.  "  I  don't  think  he  is 
in  the  least  like  Uncle  Leonard,  and  I  don't  think  he 
cares  at  all  for  money." 

"  O,  Miss  Pauline,  don't  you  believe  him  if  he  says 
he  doesn't.  I'm  his  younger  brother,  whom  he  has 
lectured  and  been  hard  on  for  these  twenty-seven 
years,  and  I  know  more  about  it  than  anybody 
else." 

"  Why,  is  Mr.  Richard  Yandermarck  twenty-seven 
years  old  ?"  I  said  with  much  surprise. 

"  Twenty-nine  his  next  birthday,  and  I  am 
twenty-seven.  Why,  did  he  pass  himself  off  for 
younger  ?  That's  an  excellent  thing  against  him." 

"  No ;  he  did  not  pass  himself  off  for  anything  in 
the  matter  of  age.  It  was  only  my  idea  about  him. 
I  thought  he  was  not  more  than  twenty-live,  perhaps 
even  younger  than  that.  But  then  I  had  nobody  but 
Uncle  Leonard  to  compare  him  with,  and  it  isn't 
strange  that  I  didn't  get  quite  right." 

"  It  is  something  of  a  step  from  Mr.  Greer  to 
Richard,  I  must  say.  Mr.  Greer  seems  so  much 
the  oldest  man  in  the  world,  and  Richard — well,  Rich- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  29 

ard  isn't  that,  but  he  is  a  good  deal  older  than  he 
ought  to  be.  But  do  you  tell  me,  Miss  Pauline,  you 
havn't  any  younger  fellows  than  Richard  on  your 
cards  ?  Do  they  keep  you  as  quiet  as  all  that  in 
Yarick-street  ?"" 

I  knew  by  intuition  this  was  impertinence,  and  no 
doubt  I  looked  annoyed,  and  Mr.  Yandermarck  has 
tened  to  obliterate  the  impression  by  a  very  rapid 
movement  upon  the  scenery,  the  beauties  of  the  river, 
and  many  things  as  novel. 

The  three  hours  of  our  sail  passed  away  pleasantly. 
Mr.  Yandermarck  did  not  move  from  his  seat ;  did 
not  even  read  his  paper,  though  I  gave  him  an  oppor 
tunity  by  turning  over  the  leaves  of  my  "  Littel "  on 
the  occurrence  of  every  pause. 

I  felt  that  I  knew  him  quite  well  before  the  journey 
was  over,  and  I  liked  him  exceedingly,  almost  as  well 
as  Richard.  He  was  rather  handsomer  than  Richard, 
not  so  tall,  but  more  vivacious  and  more  amusing, 
much  more  so.  I  began  to  think  Richard  rather 
dull  when  I  contrasted  him  with  his  brother. 

When  we  reached  the  wharf,  Mr.  Yandermarck, 
after  disposing  of  the  baggage,  gave  his  arm  to  me, 
and  took  me  to  an  open  wagon  which  was  waiting 
for  us.  He  put  me  in  the  seat  beside  him,  and  took 
the  reins  with  a  look  of  pleasure. 


30  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

"These  are  Tom  and  Jerry,  Miss  Pauline,"  he 
said,  "  about  the  pleasantest  members  of  the  family ; 
at  least  they  contribute  more  to  my  pleasure  than  any 
other  members  of  it.  I  squandered  about  half  my 
income  on  them  a  year  or  two  ago,  and  have  not  re 
pented  yet ;  though,  indeed,  repentance  isn^t  in  my 
way.  I  shall  hope  for  the  happiness  of  giving  you 
many  drives  with  them,  if  I  am  permitted." 

"  Nothing  could  make  me  happier,  I  am  sure." 

"  Richard  hasn't  any  horses,  though  he  can  afford 
it  much  better  than  I  can.  He  does  his  driving,  when 
he  is  here,  with  the  carriage-horses  that  we  keep  for 
Sophie — a  dull  old  pair  of  brutes.  He  disapproves 
very  much  of  Tom  and  Jerry ;  but  you  see  it  would 
never  do  to  have  two  such  wise  heads  in  one  family." 

"It  would  destroy  the  balance  of  power  in  the 
neighborhood." 

"Decidedly;  as  it  is,  we  are  a  first-class  power, 
owing  to  Sophie's  cleverness  and  Richard's  prudence ; 
my  prodigality  is  just  needed  to  keep  us  from  over 
running  the  county  and  proclaiming  an  empire  at  the 
next  town  meeting.  How  do  you  like  Sophie,  Miss 
d'Estree?  I  know  you  haven't  seen  much  of  her — 
but  what  you  have  ?  Isn't  she  clever,  and  isn't  she  a 
pretty  woman  to  be  nearly  thirty-five  ?" 

I  was  feeling  very  grateful  for  my  invitation,  and 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  31 

so  I  said  a  great  deal  of  my  admiration  for  his 
sister. 

"  Everybody  likes  her,"  he  said,  complacently.  "  I 
don't  know  a  more  popular  person  anywhere.  She  is 
the  life  of  the  neighborhood ;  people  come  to  her  for 
everything,  if  they  want  to  get  a  new  door-mat  for 
the  school-house,  or  if  they  want  a  new  man  nominat 
ed  for  the  legislature.  I  think  she's  awfully  bored, 
sometimes,  but  she  keeps  it  to  herself.  But  though 
the  summer  is  her  rest,  she  always  does  enough  to 
tire  out  anybody  else.  ISTow,  for  instance,  she  is  going 
to  have  three  young  ladies  with  her  for  the  next  two 
months  (besides  yourself,  Miss  d'Estree),  whom  she 
will  have  to  be  amusing  all  the  time,  and  some  friends 
of  mine  who  will  turn  the  house  inside  out.  But 
Sophie  never  grumbles." 

"  Tell  me  about  them  all,"  I  said,  consuming  with 
a  fever  of  curiosity. 

"  O,  I  forgot  you  did  not  know  them.  Shall  I 
begin  with  the  young  ladies  ? —  (Sam,  there's  a 
stone  in  Jerry's  off  fore-foot;  get  down  and  look 
about  it — Steady! — there,  I  knew  it) — Excuse  me, 
Miss  d'Estree.  Well, — the  young  ladies.  There's 
one  of  our  cousins,  a  grand,  handsome,  sombre,  esti 
mable  girl,  whom  nobody  ever  flirts  with,  but  whom 
somebody  will  marry.  That's  Henrietta  Palmer. 


30  RICHARD  VANDERMARCE. 

"  These  are  Tom  and  Jerry,  Miss  Pauline,"  lie 
said,  "  about  the  pleasantest  members  of  the  family ; 
at  least  they  contribute  more  to  my  pleasure  than  any 
other  members  of  it.  I  squandered  about  half  my 
income  on  them  a  year  or  two  ago,  and  have  not  re 
pented  yet ;  though,  indeed,  repentance  isn*t  in  my 
way.  I  shall  hope  for  the  happiness  of  giving  you 
many  drives  with  them,  if  I  am  permitted." 

"  Nothing  could  make  me  happier,  I  am  sure." 

"  Richard  hasn't  any  horses,  though  he  can  afford 
it  much  better  than  I  can.  He  does  his  driving,  when 
he  is  here,  with  the  carriage-horses  that  we  keep  for 
Sophie — a  dull  old  pair  of  brutes.  He  disapproves 
very  much  of  Tom  and  Jerry ;  but  you  see  it  would 
never  do  to  have  two  such  wise  heads  in  one  family." 

"It  would  destroy  the  balance  of  power  in  the 
neighborhood." 

"Decidedly;  as  it  is,  we  are  a  first-class  power, 
owing  to  Sophie's  cleverness  and  Richard's  prudence ; 
my  prodigality  is  just  needed  to  keep  us  from  over 
running  the  county  and  proclaiming  an  empire  at  the 
next  town  meeting.  How  do  you  like  Sophie,  Miss 
d'Estree?  I  know  you  haven't  seen  much  of  her — 
but  what  you  have  ?  Isn't  she  clever,  and  isn't  she  a 
pretty  woman  to  be  nearly  thirty-five  ?" 

I  was  feeling  very  grateful  for  my  invitation,  and 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  31 

so  I  said  a  great  deal  of  my  admiration  for  his 
sister. 

"  Everybody  likes  her,"  he  said,  complacently.  "  I 
don't  know  a  more  popular  person  anywhere.  She  is 
the  life  of  the  neighborhood ;  people  come  to  her  for 
everything,  if  they  want  to  get  a  new  door-mat  for 
the  school-house,  or  if  they  want  a  new  man  nominat 
ed  for  the  legislature.  I  think  she's  awfully  bored, 
sometimes,  bat  she  keeps  it  to  herself.  But  though 
the  summer  is  her  rest,  she  always  does  enough  to 
tire  out  anybody  else.  Now,  for  instance,  she  is  going 
to  have  three  young  ladies  with  her  for  the  next  two 
months  (besides  yourself,  Miss  d'Estree),  whom  she 
will  have  to  be  amusing  all  the  time,  and  some  friends 
of  mine  who  will  turn  the  house  inside  out.  But 
Sophie  never  grumbles." 

"  Tell  me  about  them  all,"  I  said,  consuming  with 
a  fever  of  curiosity. 

"  O,  I  forgot  you  did  not  know  them.  Shall  I 
begin  with  the  young  ladies  ? —  (Sam,  there's  a 
stone  in  Jerry's  off  fore-foot;  get  down  and  look 
about  it — Steady! — there,  I  knew  it) — Excuse  me, 
Miss  d'Estree.  Well, — the  young  ladies.  There's 
one  of  our  cousins,  a  grand,  handsome,  sombre,  esti 
mable  girl,  whom  nobody  ever  flirts  with,  but  whom 
somebody  will  marry.  That's  Henrietta  Palmer. 


34:  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

were  hideous.  I  should  not  have  been  afraid  of  young 
or  old  men,  nor  of  old  women ;  but  they  were  just 
my  age,  just  my  class,  just  my  equals,  or  ought  to 
have  been,  if  I  had  had  any  other  fate  than  Uncle 
Leonard  and  Varick-street.  How  they  would  criticize 
me !  How  soon  they  would  find  out  I  had  never 
been  anywhere  before !  I  wished  for  Richard  then 
with  all  my  heart.  Kilian  had  already  deserted  me, 
and  was  talking  to  Miss  Leighton,  who  had  come  half 
way  down  the  steps  to  meet  him,  and  who  only  gave 
me  a  glance  and  a  very  pretty  smile  and  nod,  when 
Mrs.  Hollenbeck  presented  me  to  them.  Miss  Benson 
and  Miss  Palmer  each  gave  me  a  hand,  and  looked 
me  over  horribly ;  and  the  tones  of  their  voices, 
when  they  spoke  to  me,  were  so  constrained  and  cold, 
and  so  different  from  the  tones  in  which  they  ad 
dressed  each  other.  I  hated  them. 

After  a  few  moments  of  wretchedness,  Sophie  pro 
posed  to  take  me  to  my  room.  We  went  up  the  stairs, 
which  were  steep  and  old-fashioned,  with  a  landing- 
place  almost  like  a  little  room.  My  room  was  in  a 
wing  of  the  house,  over  the  dining-room,  and  the  win 
dows  looked  out  on  the  river.  It  was  not  large,  but 
was  very  pretty.  The  windows  were  curtained,  and 
the  bed  was  dainty,  and  the  little  mantel  was  draped, 
and  the  ornaments  and  pictures  were  quaint  and  de 
lightful  to  my  taste. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  35 

Sophie  laid  the  shawls  she  had  been  carrying  up  for 
me  upon  the  bed,  and  said  she  hoped  I  would  find 
everything  I  needed,  and  would  try  to  feel  entirely  at 
home,  and  not  hesitate  to  ask  for  anything  that  would 
make  me  comfortable. 

Nothing  could  be  kinder,  but  my  affection  and 
gratitude  were  fast  dying  out,  and  I  was  quite  sure  of 
one  thing,  namely,  that  I  never  should  love  Sophie  if 
she  spent  her  life  in  inviting  me  to  pay  her  visits.  She 
told  me  that  tea  would  be  ready  in  half  an  hour,  and 
then  left  me.  I  sat  down  on  the  bed  when  she  was 
gone,  and  wished  myself  back  in  Yarick-street ;  and 
then  cried,  to  think  that  I  should  be  homesick  for  such 
a  dreary  home.  But  the  appetites  and  affections  com 
mon  to  humanity  had  not  been  left  out  of  my  heart, 
though  I  had  been  beggared  all  my  life  in  regard  to 
most  of  them.  I .  could  have  loved  a  mother  so — a 
sister — I  coilld  have  had  such  happy  feelings  for  a 
place  that  I  could  have  felt  was  home.  What  matter, 
if  I  could  not  even  remember  the  smile  on  my 
mother's  lips ;  what  matter,  if  no  brother  or  sister 
had  ever  been  born  to  me  ;  if  no  house  had  ever  been 
my  rightful  home?  I  was  hungry  for  them  all  the 
same.  And  these  first  glimpses  of  the  happy  lives 
of  others  seemed  to  disaffect  me  more  than  ever  with 
my  own. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MY    COMPANIONS. 

"  Vous  6tes  belle  :  ainsi  done  la  moitie 
Du  genre  humain  sera  votre  ennemie." 

Voltaire. 

"  Oh,  I  think  the  cause 
Of  much  was,  they  forgot  no  crowd 
Makes  up  for  parents  in  their  shroud." 

R.  Browning. 

THE  servant  came  to  call  me  down  to  tea  while  I 
was  still  sitting  with  my  face  in  my  hands  upon  the 
bed.  I  started  up,  lit  the  candles  on  the  dressing- 
table,  arranged  my  hair,  washed  the  tears  off  my  face, 
and  hurried  down  the  stairs.  They  were  waiting  for 
me  in  the  parlor,  and  no  doubt  were  quite  impatient, 
as  they  had  already  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  even 
ing  train,  and  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock.  The  even 
ing  train  had  brought  Mr.  Eugene  "Whitney,  of  whom 
I  can  only  say,  that  he  was  a  very  insignificant  young 
man  indeed.  We  all  moved  into  the  dining-room; 
the  others  took  the  seats  they  were  accustomed  to. 
Mr.  Whitney  and  I,  being  the  only  new-comers,  were 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  37 

advised  which  seats  belonged  to  us  by  a  trim  young 
maid-servant,  and  I,  for  one,  was  very  glad  to  get  into 
mine.  Mr.  Whitney  was  my  neighbor  on  one  hand, 
the  youngest  of  the  Hollenbeck  boys  on  the  other. 
These  were  our  seats  : 

Kilian, 

Miss  Leighton,  Miss  Henrietta  Palmer, 

Miss  Benson,  Mr.  Eugene  Whitney, 

Tutor,  Myself, 

Boy,  Boy, 

Mrs.  Hollenbeck. 

The  seat  opposite  me  was  not  filled  when  we  sat 
down. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Langenau,  Charley?"  said  his 
mother. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  mamma,"  said  Charley, 
applying  himself  to  marmalade. 

"  Charley  doesn't  see  much  of  his  tutor  out  of  hours, 
I  think,"  said  Miss  Benson. 

"  A  good  deal  too  much  of  him  in  'em,"  murmured 
Charley,  between  a  spoonful  of  marmalade  and  a  drink 
of  milk. 

"  Benny's  the  boy  that  loves  his  book,"  said  Kilian ; 
"  he's  the  joy  of  his  tutor's  heart,  I  know,"  at  which 
there  was  a  general  laugh,  and  Benny,  the  younger, 
looked  up  with  a  merry  smile. 


38  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

The  Hollenbeck  boys  were  not  fond  of  study.  They 
were  healthy  and  pretty ;  quite  the  reverse  of  intel 
lectual;  very  fair  and  rosy,  without  much  resem 
blance  to  their  mother  or  her  brothers.  It  was 
evident  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  was  far  from 
being  the  principal  pursuit  of  their  lives,  and  the 
tutor  was  looked  upon  as  the  natural  enemy  of  Char 
ley,  at  the  least. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  ever  got  him  for,  mamma," 
said  Charley.  "I'd  study  just  as  much  without 
him." 

"  And  that  wouldn't  be  pledging  yourself  to  very 
much,  would  it,  Charley  dear  ?" 

""Wish  he  was  back  in  Germany  with  his  ugly 
books,"  cried  Charley. 

But — hush ! — there  was  a  sudden  lull,  as  the  tutor 
entered  and  took  his  place  by  Charley.  He  was  a 
well-made  man,  evidently  about  thirty.  He  was  so 
decidedly  a  gentleman,  in  manners  and  appearance, 
that  even  these  spoiled  boys  treated  him  respectfully, 
and  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  the  table  were 
more  stiff  than  offensive  in  their  manner.  But  he 
was  so  evidently  not  one  of  them ! 

It  is  very  disagreeable  to  be  among  people  who 
know  each  other  very  well,  even  if  they  try  to  know 
you  very  well  and  admit  you  to  their  friendship.  But 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  39 

I  had  no  assurance  that  any  one  was  trying  to  do  this 
for  me,  and  I  am  afraid  I  showed  very  little  inclina 
tion  to  be  admitted  to  their  friendship.  I  could  not 
talk,  and  I  did  not  want  to  be  talked  to.  I  was  even 
afraid  of  the  little  boys,  and  thought  all  the  time  that 
Charley  was  watching  me  and  making  signs  about  me 
to  his  brother,  when  in  reality  he  was  only  telegraph 
ing  about  the  marmalade. 

In  the  meantime,  without  any  attention  to  my  feel 
ings,  the  business  of  the  tea-table  proceeded.  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck  poured  out  tea,  and  kept  the  little  boys 
under  a  moderate  control.  Kilian  cut  up  some  birds 
before  him,  and  tried  to  persuade  the  young  ladies  to 
eat  some,  but  nobody  had  appetite  enough  but  Mr. 
Whitney  and  himself.  Charlotte  'Benson,  who  was 
clever  and  efficient  and  exceedingly  at  home,  cut  up  a 
cake  that  was  before  her,  and  gave  the  boys  some 
strawberries,  and  offered  some  to  me.  Miss  Palmer 
simply  looked  very  handsome,  and  eat  a  biscuit  or 
two,  and  tried  to  talk  to  Mr.  Whitney,  who  seemed  to 
have  a  good  appetite  and  very  little  conversation. 
Miss  Leighton  gave  herself  up  to  attentions  to  Kilian ; 
she  was  saying  silly  little  things  to  him  in  a  little  low 
tone  all  the  time,  and  offering  him  different  articles 
before  her,  and  advising  him  what  he  ought  to  eat ;  all 
of  which  seemed  most  interesting  and  important  in 


40  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

dumb -show  till  you  heard  what  it  was  all  about,  and 
then  you  felt  ashamed  of  them.  At  times,  I  think, 
Kilian  felt  somewhat  ashamed  too,  and  tried  to  talk  a 
little  to  the  others ;  but  most  of  the  time  he  seemed  to 
like  it  very  well,  and  did  not  ask  anything  better  than 
the  excellent  woodcock  on  his  plate,  and  the  pretty 
young  woman  by  his  side. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Sophie,  when  the  meal  was 
nearly  over,  "  I  had  a  letter  from  Richard  to-day." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Kilian,  with  a  momentary  release  from 
his  admirer.  "  And  when  is  he  coming  home  ?" 
'  I  looked  up  with  quick  interest,  and  met  Mrs.  Hol- 
lenbeck's  eyes,  which  seemed  to  be  always  on  me. 
Then  I  turned  mine  down  the  table  uncomfortably, 
and  found  Charlotte  Benson  looking  at  me  too.  I  did 
not  know  what  I  had  done  to  be  looked  at,  but  wished 
they  would  look  at  themselves  and  let  me  take  my  tea 
(or  leave  it  alone)  in  peace. 

"  Not  for  two  weeks  yet,"  said  his  sister ;  "  not  for 
two  whole  weeks." 

"  How  sorry  I  am,"  said  Charlotte  Benson. 

"  I  think  we  are  all  sorry,"  said  Henrietta  the  tran 
quil. 

"  Miss  d'Estree  confided  to  me  that  she'd  be  glad 
to  see  him,"  said  Kilian,  cutting  up  another  wood 
cock  and  looking  at  his  plate. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  41 

f 

"Indeed  I  shall,"  I  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  not 
thinking  so  much  about  them  as  feeling  most  earnestly 
what  a  difference  his  coming  would  make,  and  how 
sure  I  should  be  of  having  at  least  one  friend  when 
he  got  here. 

"He  seems  to  be  having  a  delightful  time,"  said 
his  sister. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,"  I  said,  interested. 
"  Generally  he  finds  it  such  a  bore.  He  doesn't  seem 
to  like  to  travel."  I  was  rather  startled  at  the  sound 
of  my  own  voice  and  the  attention  of  my  audience ; 
but  I  had  been  betrayed  into  speaking,  by  my  interest 
in  the  subject,  and  my  surprise  at  hearing  he  was  hav 
ing  such  a  pleasant  time. 

"  Ah  !"  she  said,  "  don't  you  think  he  does  ?  At 
any  rate,  he  seems  to  be  enjoying  this  journey,  and  to 
be  in  no  hurry  to  come  back.  I  looked  for  him  last 
week." 

Warned  by  my  last  experience,  I  said  nothing  in 
answer ;  and  after  a  moment  Kilian  said : 

"  Well,  if  Richard's  having  a  good  time,  you  may 
be  sure  he's  made  some  favorable  negotiation,  and 
comes  home  with  good  news  for  the  firm.  That's  his 
idea  of  a  good  time,  you  know." 

"  Ah !"  said  Sophie,  gently,  "  that's  his  brother's 
idea  of  his  idea.  It  isn't  mine." 


42  EICHARD  VANDEEMAECK. 

Charlotte  Benson  seemed  a  little  nettled  at  this, 
and  exclaimed, 

"  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  !  you  are  making  us  all  unhappy. 
You  are  leading  us  to  suspect  that  the  stern  man  of 
business  is  unbending.  What's  the  influence  at 
work?  What  makes  this  journey  different  from 
other  journeys  ?  Where  does  he  tarry,  oh,  where  ?" 

"  Nonsense !"  said  Sophie,  with  a  little  laugh. 
"  You  cannot  say  I  have  implied  anything  of  the  sort. 
Cannot  Richard  enjoy  a  journey  without  your  censure 
or  suspicion  ?  You  must  be  careful ;  he  does  not 
fancy  teasing." 

"  O,  I  shall  not  accuse  him,  you  may  be  sure ;  that 
is,  if  he  ever  comes.  Do  you  believe  he  really  ever 
will?" 

"  Not  if  he  thinks  you  want  him,"  said  Kilian, 
amiably.  "He  has  a  great  aversion  to  being  made 
much  of." 

"Yes,  a  family  trait,"  interrupted  Charlotte,  at 
which  everybody  laughed,  no  one  more  cordially  than 
Miss  Leighton. 

"  Leave  off  laughing  at  my  Uncle  Richard,"  said 
Benny,  stoutly,  with  his  cheeks  quite  flushed. 

"  We  have,  dear,  and  are  laughing  at  your  Uncle 
Kilian.  You  don't  object  to  that,  I'm  sure,"  and 
Charlotte  Benson  leaned  forward  and  threw  him  a 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  43 

little  kiss  past  the  tutor,  who  wore  a  silent,  abstracted 
look,  in  odd  contrast  with  the  animated  expressions 
of  the  faces  all  around  him. 

Benny  did  not  like  the  joke  at  all,  and  got  down 
from  his  chair  and  walked  away  without  permission. 
We  all  ^followed  him,  going  into  the  hall,  and  from 
thence  to  the  piazza,  as  the  night  was  fine.  The  tutor 
walked  silently  through  the  group  in  the  hall  to  a  seat 
where  lay  his  book  and  hat,  then  passed  through  the 
doorway  and  disappeared  from  sight. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE   TUTOK. 

< 

And  now  above  them  pours  a  wondrous  voice, 
(Such  as  Greek  reapers  heard  in  Sicily), 
With  wounding  rapture  in  it,  like  love's  arrows. 

George  Eliot. 

THE  next  day,  the  first  of  my  visit,  was  a  very 
sultry  one,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  thought  it  was, 
no  doubt,  a  very  dull  one. 

Kilian  and  Mr.  Eugene  Whitney  went  away  in  the 
early  train,  not  to  return,  alas,  till  the  evening  of  the 
following  day.  Miss  Leighton  was  languid,  and 
yawned  incessantly,  though  she  tried  to  appear  in 
terested  in  things,  and  was  very  attentive  to  me. 
Charlotte  Benson  and  Henrietta  laid  strong-minded 
plans  for  the  day,  and  carried  them  out  faithfully. 
First,  they  played  a  game  of  croquet,  under  um 
brellas,  for  the  sun  was  blazing  on  the  ground :  that 
was  for  exercise;  then,  for  mental  discipline,  they 
read  history  for  an  hour  in  the  library ;  and  then,  for 
relaxation,  under  veils  and  sunhats,  read  Ruskin  for 
two  hours  by  the  river. 
.  I  cannot  think  Henrietta  understood  Ruskin,  but  I 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  45 

have  no  doubt  she  thought  she  did,  and  tried  to  share 
in  her  friend's  enthusiasm.  Sophie  had  a  little  head 
ache,  and  spent  much  of  the  morning  in  her  room. 
The  boys  were  away  with  their  tutor  in  the  farm 
house  where  they  had  their  school-room,  and  the 
house  seemed  deserted  and  delightful.  I  wandered 
about  at  ease,  chose  my  book,  and  sat  for  hours  in  the 
boat-house  by  the  river,  not  reading  Ruskin,  nor  even 
my  poor  little  novel,  but  gazing  and  dreaming  and 
wondering.  It  can  be  imagined  wrhat  the  country 
seemed  to  me,  in  beautiful  summer  weather,  after  the 
dreary  years  I  had  spent  in  a  city -street. 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  describe  all  that  seemed 
starting  into  life  within  me,  all  at  once — so  many 
new  forces,  so  much  new  life. 

My  home-sickness  had  passed  away,  and  I  was  in 
clined  to  be  very  happy,  particularly  in  the  liberty 
that  seemed  to  promise.  Dinner  was  very  quiet,  and 
every  one  seemed  dull,  even  Charlotte  Benson,  who 
ordinarily  had  life  enough  for  all.  The  boys  were 
there,  but  their  tutor  had  gone  away  on  a  long  walk 
and  would  not  be  back  till  evening.  "  A.  la  bonne 
heure"  cried  Madame,  with  a  little  yawn  ;  "  freedom 
of  the  halls,  and  deshabille,  for  one  afternoon." 

So  we  spent  the  afternoon  with  our  doors  open,  and 
with  books,  or  without  books,  on  the  bed. 


46  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

Nobody  came  into  my  room,  except  Mrs.  Hollen- 
beck  for  a  few  moments,  looking  very  pretty  in  a  white 
peignoir,  and  rather  sleepy  at  the  same  time ;  hoping 
I  was  comfortable  and  had  found  something  to  amuse 
me  in  the  library. 

It  seemed  to  be  thought  a  great  bore  to  dress,  to 
judge  from  the  exclamations  of  .ennui  which  I  heard 
in  the  hall,  as  six  o'clock  approached,  and  the  young 
ladies  wandered  into  each  other's  room  and  bewailed 
the  necessity.  I  think  Miss  Leighton  would  have 
been  very  glad  to  have  stayed  on  the  bed,  and  tried 
to  sleep  away  the  hours  that  presented  no  amusement ; 
but  Charlotte  Benson  laughed  at  her  so  cruelly,  that 
she  began  to  dress  at  once,  and  said,  she  had  not  inten 
ded  what  she  said,  of  course. 

I  was  the  first  to  be  ready,  and  went  down  to  the 
piazza.  The  heat  of  the  day  was  over  and  there  was 
a  soft,  pleasant  breeze.  "We  were  to  have  tea  at  seven 
o'clock,  and  while  I  sat  there,  the  bell  rang.  The 
tutor  came  in  from  under  the  trees  where  he  had  been 
reading,  looking  rather  pale  after  his  long  walk. 

He  bowed  slightly  as  he  passed  me,  and  waited  at 
the  other  end  of  the  piazza,  reading  as  he  stood,  till 
the  others  came  down  to  the  dining-room.  As  we 
were  seating  ourselves  he  came  in  and  took  his  place, 
with  a  bow  to  me  and  the  others.  Mrs.  Hollenbeck 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  tf 

asked  him  a  little  about  his  expedition,  and  paid  him 
a  little  more  attention  than  usual,  being  the  only  man. 

He  had  a  most  fortunate  way  of  saying  just  the 
right  thing  and  then  being  silent ;  never  speaking 
unless  addressed,  and  then  conveying  exactly  the  im 
pression  he  desired.  I  think  he  must  have  appeared 
in  a  more  interesting  light  that  usual  at  this  meal,  for 
as  we  went  out  from  the  dining-room  Mary  Leighton 
put  her  arm  through  mine  and  whispered  "  Poor  fel 
low  !  How  lonely  he  must  be !  Let's  ask  him  to  go 
and  walk  with  us  this  evening." 

Before  I  could  remonstrate  or  detach  myself  from 
her,  she  had  twisted  herself  about,  in  a  peculiarly 
supple  and  child-like  manner  that  she  had,  and  had 
made  the  suggestion  to  him. 

He  was  immeasurably  surprised,  no  doubt,  but  he 
gave  no  sign  of  it.  After  a  silence  of  two  or  three 
instants,  during  which,  I  think,  he  was  occupied  in 
trying  to  find  a  way  to  decline,  he  assented  very 
sedately. 

Charlotte  Benson  and  her  friend,  who  were  behind 
us,  were  enraged  at  this  proceeding.  During  the 
week  they  had  all  been  in  the  house  together,  they 
had  never  gone  beyond  speaking  terms  with  the 
tutor,  and  this  they  had  agreed  was  the  best  way  to 
keep  things,  and  it  seemed  to  be  his  wish  no  less  than 


48  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

theirs.  Here  was  this  saucy  girl,  in  want  of  amuse 
ment,  upsetting  all  their  plans.  They  shortly  de 
clined  to  go  to  walk  with  us  :  and  so  Mary  Leighton, 
Mr.  Langenau,  an'd  I  started  alone  toward  the  river. 

It  must  be  confessed,  Miss  Leighton  was  not  re 
warded  for  her  effort,  for  a  stiffer  and  more  uncom 
fortable  companion  could  not  be  imagined.  He 
entirely  declined  to  respond  to  her  coquetry,  and  she 
very  soon  found  she  must  abandon  this  role ;  but  she 
was  nothing  if  not  coquettish,  and  the  conversation 
nagged  uncomfortably.  Before  we  reached  home 
she  was  quite  impatient,  and  ran  up  the  steps,  when 
we  got  there,  as  if  it  were  a  great  relief.  The  tutor 
raised  his  hat  when  he  left  us  at  the  door,  turned 
back,  and  disappeared  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

The  next  morning,  coming  down-stairs  half  an  hour 
before  breakfast,  I  went  into  the  library  (a  little  room 
at  the  right  of  the  front  door),  for  a  book  I  had  left' 
there.  I  threw  myself  into  an  easy-chair,  and  opened 
it,  when  I  caught  sight  of  the  tutor,  reading  at  the 
window.  I  half  started  to  my  feet,  and  then  sank 
back  again  in  confusion ;  for  what  was  there  to  go 
away  for  ? 

He  rose  and  bowed,  and  resumed  his  seat  and  his 
book. 

The  room  was  quite  small,  and  we  were  very  near 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  49 

each  other.  How  I  could  possibly  have  missed  see 
ing  him  as  I  entered,  now  surprised  me.  I  longed  to 
go  away,  but  did  not  dare  do  anything  that  would 
seem  rude.  He  appeared  very  much  engrossed  with 
his  book,  but  I,  for  my  part,  could  not  read  a  word, 
'and  was  only  thinking  how  I  could  get  away.  Pos 
sibly  he  guessed  at  my  embarrassment,  for  after  about 
ten  minutes  he  arose,  and  coming  up  to  the  table  by 
which  I  sat,  he  took  up  a  card,  and  placed  it  in  his 
book  for  a  mark,  and  shut  it  up,  then  made  some  re 
mark  to  me  about  the  day. 

The  color  was  coming  and  going  in  my  face. 

He  must  have  felt  sorry  or  curious,  for  he  did  not 
go  directly  away,  and  continued  to  talk  of  things  that 
did  not  require  me  to  answer  him. 

I  do  not  know  what  it  was  about  his  voice  that  was 
so  different  from  the  ordinary  voices  of  people.  There 
was  a  quality  in  it  that  I  had  never  heard  in  any 
other.  But  perhaps  it  was  in  the  ear  that  listened,  as 
well  as  the  voice  that  spoke.  And  apart  from  the 
tones,  the  words  I  never  could  forget.  The  most 
trivial  things  that  he  ever  said  to  me,  I  can  remember 
to  this  day. 

I  believe  that  this  was  not  of  my  imagination,  but 
that  others  felt  it  in  some  degree  as  I  did.  It  was 
this  that  made  him  such  an  invaluable  teacher;  he 


50  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

impressed  upon  those  flesh-and-blood  boys,  in  that 
one  summer,  more  than  they  would  have  learned  in 
whole  years  from  ordinary  persons.  It  was  not  very 
strange,  then,  that  I  was  smitten  with  the  strangest 
interest  in  all  he  said  and  did,  and  that  his  words 
made  the  deepest  impression  on  me. 

No  doubt  it  is  pleasant  to  be  listened  to  by  one 
whose  face  tells  you  you  are  understood;  and  the 
tutor  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  go  away.  He  had  got  up 
from  the  window,  I  know,  with  the  intention  of  going 
out  of  the  room,  but  he  continued  standing,  looking 
down  at  me  and  talking,  for  half  an  hour  at  least. 

The  soft  morning  wind  came  in  at  the  open  door 
and  window,  with  a  scent  of  rose  and  honeysuckle : 
the  pretty  little  room  was  full  of  the  early  sunshine 
in  which  there  is  no  glare  :  I  can  see  it  all  now,  and  I 
can  hear,  as  ever,  his  low  voice. 

He  talked  of  the  book  I  held  in  my  hand,  of  the 
views  on  the  river,  of  the  pleasantness  of  country  life. 
I  fancy  I  did  not  say  much,  though  I  never  am  able 
to  remember  what  I  said  when  talking  to  him. 
Whatever  I  said  was  a  mere  involuntary  accord  with 
him.  I  never  recollect  to  have  felt  that  I  did  not 
agree  with  and  admire  every  word  he  uttered. 

How  different  his  manner  from  last  night  when  he 
had  talked  with  Mary  Leighton  ;  all  the  stiffness,  the 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  51 

half-concealed  repelling  tone  was  gone.  I  had  not 
heard  him  speak  to  any  one,  except  perhaps  once  to 
Benny,  as  he  spoke  now.  I  was  quite  sure  that  he 
liked  me,  and  that  he  did  not  class  me  with  the  others 
in  the  house.  But  when  the  breakfast-bell  rang,  he 
gave  a  slight  start,  and  his  voice  changed ;  and  such  a 
frown  came  over  his  face  !  He  looked  at  his  watch, 
said  something  about  the  hour,  and  quickly  left  the 
room.  I  bent  my  head  over  my  book  and  sat  still, 
till  I  heard  them  all  come  down  and  go  into  the 
breakfast-room.  I  trusted  they  would  not  know  he 
had  been  talking  to  me,  and  there  was  little  danger, 
unless  they  guessed  it  from  my  cheeks  being  so  aflame. 

At  breakfast  he  was  more  silent  than  ever,  and  his 
brow  had  not  quite  got  over  that  sudden  frown.  At 
dinner  he  was  away  again,  as  the  day  before. 

The  day  passed  much  as  yesterday  had  done. 
About  four  o'clock  there  came  a  telegram  from 
Kilian  to  his  sister.  He  had  been  delayed,  and  Mr. 
Whitney  would  wait  for  him,  and  they  would  come 
the  next  evening  by  the  boat.  I  think  Mary  Leightoii 
could  have  cried  if  she  had  not  been  ashamed.  Her 
pretty  blue  organdie  was  on  the  bed  ready  to  put 
on.  It  went  back  into  the  wardrobe  very  quickly, 
and  she  came  down  to  tea  in  a  gray  barege  that  was 
a  little  shabby. 


52  RICHARD  VANDERMAROE. 

A  rain  had  come  on  about  six  o'clock.  At  tea  the 
candles  were  lit,  and  the  windows  closed.  Every  one 
looked  moped  and  dull ;  the  evening  promised  to  be 
insufferable.  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  saw  the  necessity  of 
rousing  herself  and  providing  us  some  amusement. 
When  Mr.  Langenau  entered,  she  met  his  bow  with 
one  of  her  best  smiles :  how  the  change  must  have 
struck  him ;  for  she  had  been  very  mechanical  and 
polite  to  him  before.  Now  she  spoke  to  him  with  the 
charming  manner  that  brought  every  one  to  her  feet. 

And  what  was  the  cause  of  this  sudden  kindness  ? 
It  is  very  easy  for  me  to  see  now,  though  then  I  had 
not  a  suspicion.  Alas !  I  am  afraid  that  the  cheeks 
aflame  at  breakfast-time  were  the  immediate^cause  of 
the  change.  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  would  not  have  made 
so  marked  a  movement  for  an  evening's  entertainment : 
it  seemed  to  suit  her  very  well  that  I  should  talk 
to  the  tutor  in  the  library  before  breakfast,  and  she 
meant  to  give  me  opportunities  for  talking  to  him  in 
the  parlor  too. 

"  A  dreary  evening,  is  it  not  ?  she  began."  "  "What " 
shall  we  all  do  ?  Charlotte,  can't  you  think  of  some 
thing?" 

Charlotte,  who  had  her  own  plans  for  a  quiet  even 
ing  by  the  lamp  with  a  new  book,  of  course  could  not 
think  of  anything. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  53 

"  Henrietta,  at  least  you  shall  give  us  some  music, 
and  Mr.  Langenau,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  good  enough 
to  help  us ;  I  will  send  over  to  the  school-room  for 
that  flute  and  those  piles  of  music  that  I've  seen  upon 
a  shelf,  and  you  will  be  charitable  enough  to  play  for 
us." 

"  I  must  beg  you  will  not  take  that  trouble." 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Langenau,  that  is  selfish  now." 
Mrs.  Hollenbeck  did  not  press  the  subject  then,  but 
made  herself  thoroughly  delightful  during  tea,  and  as 
we  rose  from  the  table  renewed  the  request  in  a  low 
tone  to  Mr.  Langenau :  and  the  result  was,  a  little  after 
eight  o'clock  he  came  into  the  parlor  where  we  sat. 
A  place  was  made  for  him  at  the  table  around  which 
we  were  sitting,  and  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  began  the  pro 
cess  of  putting  him  at  his  ease.  There  was  no  need. 
The  tutor  was  quite  as  much  at  ease  as  any  one,  and, 
in  a  little  while,  imperceptibly  became  the  person  to 
whom  we  were  all  listening.  t 

Charlotte  Benson  at  last  gave  up  her  book,  and 
took  her  work-box  instead.  We  were  no  longer  mop 
ing  and  dull  around  the  table.  And  bye  and  bye 
Henrietta,  much  alarmed,  was  sent  to  the  piano,  and 
her  poor  little  music  certainly  sounded  very  meagre 
when  Mr.  Langenau  touched  the  keys. 

I  think  he  consented  to  play  not  to  appear  rude, 


54:  RICHARD  VANDERMAROK. 

but  with  the  firm  intention  of  not  being  the  instru 
ment  of  our  entertainment,  and  not  being  made  use 
of  out  of  his  own  accepted  calling.  But  happily  for 
us,  he  soon  forgot  all  about  us,  and  played  on,  ab 
sorbed  in  himself  and  in  his  music.  We  listened 
breathlessly,  the  others  quite  as  much  engrossed  as  I, 
because  they  all  knew  much  more  of  music  than  I  did. 
Suddenly,  after  playing  for  a  long  while,  he  started 
from  the  piano,  and  came  back  to  the  table.  He  was 
evidently  agitated.  Before  the  others  could  say  a 
word  of  thanks  or  wonder,  I  cried,  in  a  fear  of  the  ces 
sation  of  what  gave  me  such  intense  pleasure, 

"  Oh,  sing  something ;  can't  you  sing  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  can  sing,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  me 
with  those  dangerous  eyes.  "Will  it  give  you 
pleasure  if  I  sing  for  you  1" 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  turned  back  to 
the  piano. 

He  had  |pid  "  if  I  sing  for  you,"  and  I  knew  that  for 
me  he  was  singing.  I  do  not  know  what  it  was  for 
others,  but  for  me,  it  was  the  only  true  music  that  I 
had  ever  heard,  the  only  music  that  I  could  have 
begged  might  never  cease,  but  flood  over  all  the  pres 
ent  and  the  future,  satisfying  every  sense.  Other  voices 
had  roused  and  thrilled,  this  filled  me.  I  asked  no 
more,  and  could  have  died  with  that  sound  in  my  ears. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  55 

"Why,  Pauline!  child!  what  is  it?"  cried  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck,  as  the  music  ceased  and  Mr.  Langenau 
again  came  back  to  the  circle  round  the  table.  Every 
one  looked :  I  was  choking  with  sobs. 

"  Oh,  don't,  I  don't  want  you  to  speak  to  me,"  I 
cried,  putting  away  her  hand  and  darting  from  the 
room.  I  was  not  ashamed  of  myself,  even  when  I 
was  alone  in  my  room.  The  powerful  magic  lasted 
still,  through  the  silence  and  darkness,  till  I  was 
aroused  by  the  voices  of  the  others  coming  up  to  bed. 

Mrs.  Hollenbeck  knocked  at  my  door  with  her  bed 
room  candle  in  her  hand,  and,  as  she  stood  talking  to 
me,  the  others  strayed  in  to  join  her  and  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity. 

"  You  are  very  sensitive  to  music,  are  you  not  ?" 
said  Charlotte  Benson,  contemplatively.  She  had 
tried  me  on  Mompssen,  and  the  "  Seven  Lamps,"  and 
found  me  wanting,  and  now  perhaps  hoped  to  find 
some  other  point  less  faulty. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  I  said,  honestly.  "  I  seem  to 
have  been  very  sensitive  to-night." 

"  But  you  are  not  always  ?"0  asked  Henrietta  Pal 
mer.  "  You  do  not  always  cry  when  people  sing  ?" 

"  Why,  no,"  I  said  with  great  contempt.  "  But  I 
never  heard  any  one  sing  like  that  before." 

"  He  does  sing  well,"  said  Mrs.  Hollenbeck,  thought 
fully. 


56  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"Immense  expression  and  a  fine  voice,"  added 
Charlotte  Benson. 

"He  has  been  educated  for  the  stage,  you  may  be 
sure,"  said  Mary  Leighton,  with  a  little  spite.  "  As 
Miss  d'Estree  says,  I  never  heard  any  one  sing  like 
that,  out  of  the  chorus  of  an  opera." 

"Well,  I  think,"  returned  Charlotte  Benson,  "if 
there  were  many  voices  like  that  in  ordinary  choruses, 
one  would  be  glad  to  dispense  with  the  solos  and 
duets." 

"  Oh,  you  would  not  find  his  voice  so  wonderful, 
if  you  heard  it  out  of  a  parlor.  It  is  very  well,  but 
it  would  not  fill  a  concert  hall,  much  less  an  opera 
house.  No ;  you  may  be  sure  he  has  been  educated 
for  some  of  those  German  choruses ;  you  know  they 
are  very  fine  musicians." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  it  is  anything  to  us  what 
he  was  educated  for,"  said  Charlotte  Benson,  sharply. 
"  He  has  given  us  a  very  delightful  evening,  and  I, 
for  one,  am  much  obliged  to  him." 

" Et  moi  aussi"  murmured  Henrietta,  wreathing 
her  large  beautiful  arms  about  her  friend,  and  the  two 
sauntered  away. 

Mary  Leighton,  in  general  ill-humor,  and  still  re 
membering  the  walk  of  the  last  evening,  desired  to 
fire  a  parting-shot,  and  exclaimed,  as  she  went  out, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  57 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is  something  to  us ;  I  like  to  have 
gentlemen  about  me." 

"  You  need  not  be  uneasy,"  said  Mrs.  Hollenbeck, 
a  little  stiffly.  "  I  think  Mr.  Langenau  is  a  gentle 
man." 

But  at  this  moment  his  step  was  heard  in  the  hall 

below,  and  there  was  an  end  put  to  the  conversation. 

3* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MATIN  AL. 

Last  night,  when  some  one  spoke  his  name, 
From  my  swift  blood  that  went  and  came 
A  thousand  little  shafts  of  flame 
Were  shivered  in  my  narrow  frame. 

Tennyson. 

THE  next  morning  was  brilliant  and  cool,  the  earth 
and  heavens  shining  after  the  rain  of  the  past  night.  I 
was  dressed  long,  long  before  breakfast :  it  would  be 
so  tiresome  to  wait  in  my  room  till  the  bell  rang  ;  yet 
if  I  went  down-stairs,  would  it  not  look  as  if  I  wanted 
to  see  Mr.  Langenau  again?  I  need  not  go  to  the 
library,  of  cpurse,  but  I  could  scarcely  avoid  being  seen 
from  the  library  if  I  went  out.  But  why  suppose 
that  he  would  be  down  again  so  early  ?  It  was  very 
improbable,  and  so,  affectionately  deceived,  I  put  on  a 
hat  and  walking-jacket  and  stole  down  the  stairs.  I 
saw  by  the  clock  in  the  lower  hall  that  it  was  half  an 
hour  earlier  than  I  had  come  down  the  morning  be 
fore  ;  at  which  I  was  secretly  chagrined,  for  now  there 
was  no  danger,  alias  hope,  of  seeing  Mr.  Langenau. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  59 

But  probably  he  had  forgotten  all  about  the  foolish 
half-hour  that  had  given  me  so  much  to  think  about. 
I  glanced  into  the  library,  which  was  empty,  and  hur 
ried  out  of  the  hall-door,  secretly  disappointed. 

I  took  the  path  that  led  over  the  hill  to  the  river. 
It  passed  through  the  garden,  under  the  long  arbors  of 
grapevines,  over  the  hill,  and  through  a  grove  of 
maples,  ending  at  the  river  where  the  boat-house 
stood.  The  brightness  of  the  morning  was  not  lost 
on  me,  and  before  I  reached  the  maple-grove  I  was 
buoyant  and  happy.  At  the  entrance  of  the  grove 
(which  was  traversed  by  several  paths,  the  principal 
coming  up  directly  from  the  river)  I  came  suddenly 
upon  the  tutor,  walking  rapidly,  with  a  pair  of  oars 
over  his  shoulder.  He  started,  and  for  a  moment  we 
both  stood  still  and  did  not  speak.  I  could  only 
think  with  confusion  of  my  emotion  when  he  sang. 

"  You  are  always  early,"  he  said,  with  his  slight, 
very  slight,  foreign  accent,  "  earlier  than  yesterday  by 
half  an  hour,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  watch.  My 
heart  gave  a  great  bound  of  pleasure.  Then  he  had 
not  forgotten  !  How  he  must  have  seen  all  this. 

He  stood  and  talked  with  me  for  some  moments, 
and  then  desperately  I  made  a  movement  to  go  on.  I 
do  not  believe,  at  least  I  am  not  sure,  that  at  first  he 
had  any  intention  of  going  with  me.  But  it  was  not 


60  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK 

in  human  nature  to  withstand  the  flattery  of  such 
emotion  as  his  presence  seemed  always  to  inspire  in 
me;  and  then,  I  have  no  doubt,  he  had  a  certain 
pleasure  in  talking  to  me  outside  of  that ;  and  then 
the  morning  was  so  lovely  and  he  had  so  much  of 
books. 

He  proposed  to  show  me  a  walk  I  had  not  taken. 
There  was  a  little  hesitation  in  his  manner,  but  he 
was  reassured  by  my  look  of  pleasure,  and  throwing 
down  the  oars  under  a  tree,  he  turned  and  walked  be 
side  me.  ~No  doubt  he  said  to  himself,  "America! 
This  paradise  of  girlhood; — there  can  be  no  objec 
tion."  It  was  heavenly  sweet,  that  walk — the  birds, 
the  sky,  the  dewiness  and  freshness  of  all  nature  and 
all  life.  It  seemed  the  unstained  beginning  of  all 
things  to  me. 

The  woods  were  wet;  we  could  not  go  through 
them,  and  so  we  went  a  longer  way,  along  the  river 
and  back  by  the  road. 

This  time  he  did  not  do  all  the  talking,  but  made 
me  talk,  and  listened  carefully  to  all  I  said ;  and  I  was 
so  happy,  talking  was  not  any  effort. 

At  last  he  made  some  allusion  to  the  music  of  last 
night ;  that  he  was  so  glad  to  see  that  I  loved  music  as 
I  did.  "  But  I  don't  particularly,"  I  said  in  confusion, 
with  a  great  fear  of  being  dishonest,  "  at  least  I  never 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  61 

thought  I  did  before,  and  I  am  so  ignorant.  I  don't 
want  you  to  think  I  know  anything  about  it,  for  you 
would  be  disappointed."  He  was  silent,  and,  I  felt 
sure,  because  he  was  already  disappointed ;  in  fear  of 
which  I  went  on  to  say — 

"  I  never  heard  any  one  sing  like  that  before  ;  I  am 
very  sorry  that  it  gave  any  one  an  impression  that  I 
had  a  knowledge  of  music,  when  I  .hadn't.  I  don't 
care  about  it  generally,  except  in  church,  and  I  can't 
understand  what  made  me  feel  so  yesterday." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  you  were  in  the  mood  for 
it,"  he  said.  "  It  is  often  so,  one  time  music  gives  us 
pleasure,  another  time  it  does  not." 

"That  may  be  so;  but  your  voice,  in  speaking, 
even,  seems  to  me  different  from  any  other.  It  is  al 
most  as  good  as  music  when  you  speak;  only  the 
music  fills  me  with  such  feelings." 

"  You  must  let  me  sing  for  you  again,"  he  said, 
rather  low,  as  we  walked  slowly  on. 

"  Ah ;  if  you  only  will,"  I  answered,  with  a  deep 
sigh  of  satisfaction. 

We  walked  on  in  silence  till  we  reached  the  gate : 
he  opened  it  for  me  and  then  said,  "Now  I  must 
leave  you,  and  go  back  for  the  oars." 

I  was  secretly  glad  of  this;  since  the  walk  had 
reached  its  natural  limit  and  its  end  must  be  accepted, 


62  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

it  was  a  relief  to  approach  the  house  alone  and  not  be 
the  subject  of  any  observation. 

Breakfast  had  began :  no  one  seemed  to  feel  much 
interest  in  my  entrance,  though  flaming  with  red 
roses  and  red  cheeks. 

They  were  of  the  sex  that  do  not  notice  such  things 
naturally,  with  much  interest  or  admiration.  They 
had  hardly  "shaken  off  drowsy-hed,"  and  had  no 
pleasure  in  anything  but  their  breakfast,  and  not 
much  in  that. 

"How  do  you  manage  to  get  yourself  up  and 
dressed  at  such  inhuman  hours  ?"  said  Mary  Leighton, 
querulously. 

"You  are  a  reproach  to  the  household,  and  we  will 
not  suffer  it,"  said  Charlotte  Benson. 

"  I  never  could  understand  this  thing  of  getting  up 
before  you  are  obliged  to,"  added  Henrietta  plaintively. 

But  Sophie  seemed  well  satisfied,  particularly  when 
Mr.  Langenau  came  in  and  I  looked  down  into  my 
cup  of  tea,  instead  of  saying  good-morning  to  him. 
He  did  not  say  very  much,  though  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  babble  among  the  others,  principally-about  his 
music. 

It  was  becoming  the  fashion  to  be  very  attentive  to 
him.  He  was  made  to  promise  to  play  in  the  even 
ing  ;  to  bring  down  his  books  of  music  for  the  benefit 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  63 

of  Miss  Henrietta,  who  wanted  to  practice.  Heaven 
knows  what  of  his.  His  advice  was  asked  about  styles 
of  playing  and  modes  of  instruction ;  he  was  deferred 
to  as  an  authority.  But  very  little  he  seemed  to  care 
about  it  all,  I  thought. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THREE   WEEKS   TOO    LATE. 
Qut  vadla  chasse  perd  sa  place. 

De  la  main  d  la  bouclie  se  perd  souvent  la  soupe. 

Distance  all  value  enhances  ! 
When  a  man's  busy,  why,  leisure 
Strikes  him  as  wonderful  pleasure. 
Faith  !  and  at  leisure  once  is  he, 
Straightway  he  wants  to  be  busy. 

R.  Browning. 

Two  weeks  more  passed :  two  weeks  that  seem  to 
me  so  many  years  when  I  look  back  upon  them. 
Many  more  walks,  early  and  late,  many  evenings  of 
music,  many  accidents  of  meeting.  It  is  all  like  a 
dream.  At  seventeen  it  is  so  easy  to  dream!  It 
does  not  take  two  weeks  for  a  girl  to  fall  in  love  and 
make  her  whole  life  different. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  Richard  was  expected ; 
Richard  and  Kilian  and  Mr.  Eugene  Whitney.  Ah, 
Richard  was  coming  just  three  weeks  too  late. 

We  were  all  waiting  on  the  piazza  for  them,  in 
pretty  toilettes  and  excellent  tempers.  It  was  a  lovely 


RICHAED  VANDEEMAECK  65 

evening ;  the  sunset  was  filling  the  sky  with  splendor, 
and  Charlotte  and  Henrietta  had  gone  to  the  corner 
of  the  piazza  whence  the  river  could  be  seen,  and 
were  murmuring  fragments  of  verses  to  each  other. 
They  were  not  so  much  absorbed,  however,  but  that 
they  heard  the  first  sound  of  the  wheels  inside  the 
gate,  and  hurried  back  to  join  us  by  the  steps. 

Mary  Leighton  looked  absolutely  lovely.  The  blue 
organdie  had  seen  the  day  at  last,  and  she  was  in  such 
a  flutter  of  delight  at  the  coming  of  the  gentlemen 
that  she  could  scarcely  be  recognized  as  the  pale, 
flimsy  young  person  who  had  moped  so  unblushingly 
all  the  week. 

"  They  are  all  three  there,"  she  exclaimed  with  sup 
pressed  rapture,  as  the  carriage  turned  the  angle  of 
the  road  that  brought  them  into  sight.  Mrs.  Hollen- 
beck,  quite  beaming  with  pleasure,  ran  down  the  steps 
(for  Richard  had  been  away  almost  two  months),  and 
Mary  Leighton  was  at  her  side,  of  course.  Charlotte 
Benson  and  Henrietta  went  half-way  down  the  steps, 
and  I  stood  on  the  piazza  by  the  pillar  near  the  door. 

I  was  a  little  excited  by  their  coming,  too,  but  not 
nearly  as  much  so  as  I  might  have  been  three  weeks 
ago.  A  subject  of  much  greater  interest  occupied  my 
mind  that  very  moment,  and  related  to  the  chances 
of  the  tutor's  getting  home  in  time  for  tea,  from  one 


66  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

of  those  long  walks  that  were  so  tiresome.  I  felt  as 
if  I  hardly  needed  Eichard  now.  Still,  dear  old  Rich- 
ard !  It  was  very  nice  to  see  him  once  again. 

The  gentlemen  all  sprang  out  of  the  carriage,  and 
a  Babel  of  welcomes  and  questions  and  exclamations 
arose.  Richard  kissed  his  sister,  and  answered  some 
of  her  many  questions,  then  shook  hands  with  the 
young  ladies,  but  I  could  see  that  his  eye  was  search 
ing  for  me.  I  can't  tell  why,  certainly  not  because  I 
felt  at  all  shy,  I  had  stepped  back,  a  little  behind  the 
pillar  and  the  vines.  In  an  instant  he  saw  me,  and 
came  quickly  up  the  steps,  and  stood  by  me  and 
grasped  my  hand,  and  looked  exactly  as  if  he  meant 
to  kiss  me.  I  hoped  that  nobody  saw  his  look,  and  I 
drew  back,  a  little  frightened.  Of  course,  I  know 
that  he  had  not  the  least  intention  of  kissing  me,  but 
his  look  was  so  eager  and  so  unusual. 

"  It  is  two  months,  Pauline,"  he  said ;  "  and  are  you 
well  ?"  And  though  I  only  said  that  I  was  well  and 
was  very  glad  to  see  him,  I  am  sure  his  sister  Sophie 
thought  that  it  was  something  more,  for  she  had  fol 
lowed  him  up  the  steps  and  stood  in  the  doorway 
looking  at  us. 

The  others  came  up  there,  and  Kilian,  as  soon  as 
he  could  get  out  of  the  meshes  of  the  blue  organdie, 
came  to  me,  and  tried  to  out-devotion  Richard. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  67 

That  is  the  way  with  men.  He  had  not  taken  any 
trouble  to  get  away  from  Mary  Leighton  till  Kichard 
came. 

A  young  woman  only  needs  one  lover  very  much 
in  earnest,  to  bring  about  her  several  others,  not  so 
much,  perhaps,  in  earnest,  but  very  amusing  and 
instructive.  Richard  went  away  very  quickly,  for  I 
am  sure  he  did  not  like  that  sort  of  thing. 

It  was  soon  necessary  for  Mr.  Kilian  to  suspend  his 
devotion  and  go  to  his  room  to  get  ready  for  tea. 

When  we  all  assembled  again,  at  the  table,  I  found 
that  he  had  placed  himself  beside  me,  next  his  sister, 
little  Benny  having  gone  to  bed. 

"  Of  course,  the  head  of  the  table  belongs  to  Eichard; 
I  never  interfere  there,  and  as  everybody  else  is  placed, 
this  is  the  only  seat  that  I  can  take,  following  the  rose 
and  thorn  principle." 

"  But  that  principle  is  not  followed  strictly,"  cried 
Charlotte  Benson,  who  sat  by  Mary  Leighton.  "  Here 
are  two  roses  and  no  thorn." 

"  Ah !  What  a  strange  oversight,"  he  exclaimed, 
seating  himself  nevertheless.  "The  only  way  to 
remedy  it  will  be  to  put  the  tutor  in  your  place, 
Miss  Benson,  and  you  come  opposite  Miss  Pauline. 
Quick ;  before  he  comes  and  refuses  to  move  his  Teu 
tonic  bones  an  inch."  Charlotte  Benson  changed  her 


G8  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

seat  and  the  vacant  one  was  left  between  her  and 
Mary  Leighton. 

This  is  the  order  of  our  seats,  for  that  and  many 
following  happy  nights  and  days : 
Richard, 

Mary  Leighton,  Henrietta, 

The  Tutor,  Mr.  Eugene  Whitney, 

Charlotte  Benson,  Myself, 

Charley,  Kilian, 

Sophie. 

Mary  Leighton  looked  furious  and  could  hardly 
speak  a  word  all  through  the  ineal.  It  was  par 
ticularly  hard  upon  her,  as  the  tutor  did  not  come,  and 
the  chair  was  empty,  and  a  glaring  insult  to  her  all 
the  time. 

Kilian  had  done  his  part  so  innocently  and  so 
simply  that  it  was  hard  to  suspect  him  of  any 
intention  to  pique  her  and  annoy  Richard,  but  I  am 
sure  he  did  it  with  just  those  two  intentions.  He  was 
as  thorough  a  flirt  as  any  woman,  and  withal  very 
fond  of  change,  and  I  think  my  pink  grenadine  quite 
dazzled  him  as  I  stood  on  the  piazza.  Then  came  the 
brotherly  and  quite  natural  desire  to  outshine  Richard 
and  put  things  out  a  little.  I  liked  it  all  very  much, 
and  was  charmed  to  be  of  ^so'  much  consequence,  for  I 
saw  all  this  quite  plainly.  I  laughed  and  talked  a 


EICHAED  VANDERMAEGK  69 

good  deal  with  Kilian ;  he  was  delightful  to  laugh 
and  talk  with.  Even  Eugene  "Whitney  found  me 
more  worth  his  weak  attention  than  the  beautiful  and 
placid  Henrietta. 

The  amusement  was  chiefly  at  our  end  of  the  table. 
Eut  amidst  it,  I  did  not  fail  to  glance  often  at  the 
door  and  wonder,  uncomfortably,  why  the  tutor  did 
not  come. 

As  we  left  the  table  and  lingered  for  a  few  moments 
in  the  hall,  Richard  came  up  to  me  and  said,  as  he 
prepared  to  light  his  cigar,  "  Will  you  not  come  out 
and  walk  up  and  down  the  path  here  with  me  while 
I  smoke  F 

I  began  to  make  some  excuse,  for  I  wanted  to  do 
nothing  just  then  but  watch  the  stairway  to  see  if 
Mr.  Langenau  did  not  come  down  even  then  and  go 
into  the  dining-room. 

But  I  reflected  how  ungracio.us  it  would  seem  to 
refuse  this,  when  he  had  just  come  home,  and  I  fol 
lowed  him  out  into  the  path. 

There  was  no  moon,  but  the  stars  were  very  bright, 
and  the  air  was  sweet  with  the  flower-beds  in  the 
grass  along  the  path  we  walked. 

The  house  looked  gay  and  pleasant  as  we  walked 
up  and  down  before  it,  with  its  many  lighted  windows, 
and  people  with  bright  dresses  moving  about  on  the 


70  RICHARD  VANDERMAROK. 

piazza.  Kichard  lit  his  cigar,  and  said,  after  a  silence 
of  a  few  moments,  with  a  sigh,  "  It  is  good  to  be  at 
home  again." 

"  But  you've  had  a  pleasant  journey  ? " 

"  No ;  the  most  tiresome  that  I  ever  made,  and  this 
last  detention  wore  my  patience  out.  It  seemed  the 
longest  fortnight.  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  you  all 
here,  and  I  away  in  such  a  dismal  hole." 

"  I  suppose  Uncle  Leonard  had  no  pity  on  you,  as 
long  as  there  was  a  penny  to  be  made  by  staying 
there." 

"  No  ;  I  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  in  telegraph 
ing  to  him  for  orders  to  come  home,  but  he  would  not 
give  up." 

"  And  how  is  Uncle  Leonard ;  did  you  go  to  Yarick- 
street?" 

"  No,  indeed  ;  I  did  not  waste  any  time  in  town.  I 
only  reached  there  yesterday." 

"  I  wonder  Uncle  Leonard  let  you  off  so  soon." 

"  He  growled  a  good  deal,  but  I  did  not  stay  to 
listen." 

"  That's  always  the  best  way." 

"  And  now,  Pauline,  tell  me  how  you  like  the  place." 

"  Like  it !  Oh,  Bichard,  I  think  it  is  a  Paradise," 
and  I  clasped  my  hands  in  a  young  sort  of  ecstacy. 

He  was  silent,  which  was  a  sign  that  he  was  satisfied 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  71 

I  went  on  after  a  moment,  "  I  don't  wonder  that  you  all 
love  it.  I  never  saw  anything  half  so  beautiful.  The 
dear  old  house  is  prettier  than  any  new  one  that  could 
be  built,  and  the  trees  are  so  grand !  And  oh,  Richard, 
I  think  the  garden  lying  on  the  hillside  there  in  the 
beautiful  warm  sun,  with  such  royal  flowers  and  fruit, 
is  worth  all  the  grape-houses  and  conservatories  in 
the  neighborhood.  Your  sister  took  us  to  three  or  four 
of  the  neighboring  places  a  week  or  two  ago.  But  I 
like  this  a  hundred  times  the  best.  I  should  think 
you  would  be  sorry  every  moment  that  you  have  to 
spend  away  from  it." 

"  I  hope  one  of  these  days  to  live  here  altogether," 
he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

It  was  so  difficult  for  Hi  chard  to  be  unreserved 
that  it  is  very  likely  this  was  the  first  time  in  his  life 
that  he  had  ever  expressed  this,  the  brightest  hope 
he  had. 

I  could  fancy  all  these  few  words  implied —  a  wife, 
children,  a  happy  home  in  manhood  where  he  had 
been  a  happy  child. 

"  It  belongs  to  Kilian  and  me,  but  it  is  understood 
I  have  the  right  to  it  when  I  am  ready  for  it." 

"  And  your  sister — it  does  not  belong  ,at  all  to  her  ?" 

"  No,  she  only  keeps  house  for  us.  It  would  make 
a  great  change  for  Sophie  if  either  <^f  ,us  married. 


72  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

But  then  I  know  that  it  would  give  her  pleasure,  for 
I  am  sure  that  she  would  not  be  selfish." 

I  was  not  so  sure,  but,  of  course,  I  did  not  say  so. 
At  this  moment,  while  Richard  smoked  and  I  walked 
silently  beside  him,  a  dark  figure  struck  directly 
across  the  path  before  us.  The  apparition  was  so 
sudden  that  I  sprang  and  screamed,  and  caught 
Richard  by  the  arm. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  tutor,  with  a  quick 
look  of  surprise  at  me  and  then  at  Richard,  and  bow 
ing,  strode  on  into  the  house. 

"  That's  the  German  Sophie  has  taken  for  the  boys, 
is  it  ?"  said  Richard,  knitting  his  brows,  and  looking 
after  him,  with  no  great  approbation.  "  I  don't  half 
like  the  idea  of  his  being  here :  I  told  Sophie  so  at 
starting.  A  governess  would  do  as  well  for  two  years 
yet.  "What  kind  of  a  person  does  he  seem  to  be  ?" 

UI  don't  know — that  is — I  can't  tell  exactly.  I 
don't  know  him  well  enough,"  I  answered  in  confu 
sion,  which  Richard  did  not  see. 

"  ISTo,  of  course  not.  You  would  not  be  likely  to 
see  him  except  at  the  table.  But  it  is  awkward  hav 
ing  him  here, — so  much  of  the  week,  no  man  about ; 
and  one  never  knows  anything  about  these  Germans." 

"  I  thought — your  sister  said — you  knew  all  about 
him,"  I  said,  in  rather  a  low  voice. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  73 

"As  much  as  one  needs  to  know  about  a  mere 
teacher.  But  the  person  you  have  in  your  house  all 
the  time  is  different." 

"  But  he  is  a  gentleman,"  I  put  in  more  firmly. 

"  I  hope  he  is.  He  had  letters  to  some  friends  of 
ours.  But  what  are  letters  ?  People  give  them  when 
they're  asked  for  -them,  and  half  the  time  know 
nothing  of  the  person  for  whom  they  do  the  favor, 
besides  his  name  and  general  standing.  Hardly  that, 
sometimes."  Then,  as  if  to  put  away  a  tiresome  and 
unwelcome  subject,  he  began  again  to  talk  about  the 
place. 

But  I  had  lost  my  interest  in  the  subject,  and 
thought  only  of  returning  to  the  house. 

"  Don't,"  I  said,  playfully  putting  out  my  hand  as 
he  took  out  another  cigar  to  light.  "You  have 
smoked  enough  to-night.  Do  you  know,  you  smoke 
a  great  deal  more  than  is  good  for  you." 

"  Well,  I  will  not  smoke  any  more  to-night  if  you 
say  so.  Only  don't  go  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  know  we  only  came  out  to  smoke." 

He  stood  in  front  of  the  path  that  led  to  the  piazza 
and  said,  in  an  affectionate,  gentle  way,  "  Stay  and 
walk  a  little  longer.  I  have  not  told  you  half  how 
glad  I  am  that  you  are  here  at  last." 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  you've  got  a  good  many  weeks  to 


74  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

tell  me  in.  Besides,  it's  getting  chilly,"  and  I  gave  a 
little  shiver. 

"  If  you're  cold,  of  course,"  he  said,  letting  me  pass 
and  following  me,  and  added,  with  a  shade  of  anxiety, 
"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?  I  never  thought 
of  it,  and  you  have  no  shawl." 

I  felt  ashamed  of  myself  as  I  led  the  way  up  the 
piazza  steps. 

In  the  hall,  which  was  quite  light,  they  were  all 
standing,  and  Mr.  Langenau  was  in  the  group.  They 
were  petitioning  him  for  music.  • 

"  Oh,  he  has  promised  that  he  will  sing,"  said  So 
phie;  "but  remember  he  has  not  had  his  tea.  I 
have  ordered  it  for  you,  Mr.  Langenau;  it  will  be 
ready  in  a"  moment." 

Mr.  Langenau  bowed  and  turned  to  go  up  the 
stairs.  His  eye  met  mine,  as  I  came  into  the  light, 
dazzled  a  little  by  it. 

He  went  up  the  stairs ;  the  others  after  a  few  mo 
ments,  went  into  the  parlor.  I  sat  down  on  a  sofa  beside 
Mrs.  Hollenbeck.  Hichard  was  called  away  by  a  per 
son  on  business.  There  was  a  shaded  lamp  on  a 
bracket  above  the  sofa  where  we  sat ;  Mrs.  Hollenbeck 
was  reading  some  letters  she  had  just  received,  and  I 
took  up  the  evening  paper,  reading  over  and  over  an 
advertisement  of  books.  Presently  the  servant  came 


RIGHAED  VANDERNARGK.  75 

to  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  and  said  that  Mr.  Langenau's  tea 
was  ready.  She  was  sent  up  to  tell  him  so,  and  in  a 
few  moments  he  came  down.  When  he  reached  the 
hall,  Sophie  looked  up  with  her  most  lovely  smile. 

"  Yon  must  be  famished,  Mr.  Langenau ;  pray  go 
immediately  to  the  dining-room.  I  am  sorry  not  to 
make  your  tea  myself,  but  I  hear  Benny  waking  and 
must  go  to  him.  Will  you  mind  taking  my  place, 
Pauline,  and  pouring  out  tea  for  Mr.  Langenau  ? " 

I  was  bending  over  the  paper;  my  face  turned 
suddenly  from  red  to  pale.  I  said  something 
inaudible  in  reply,  and  got  up  and  went  into  the 
dining-room,  followed  by  the  tutor. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  I  looked  at  him.  The 
servants  had  not  favored  us  with  much  light :  there 
was  a  branch  of  wax  candles  in  the  middle  of  the 
table.  Mr.  Langenau's  plate  was  placed  just  at  one 
side  of  the  tray,  at  which  I  had  seated  myself.  He 
looked  pale,  even  to  his  lips.  I  began  to  think  of  the 
terrible  walks  in  which  he  seemed  to  hunt  himself 
down,  and  to  wonder  what  was  the  motive,  though  I 
had  often  wondered  that  before.  He  took  the  cup  of 
tea  I  offered  him  without  speaking.  Neither  of  us  .  ^ 
spoke  for  several  minutes,  then  I  said,  rather  irreso 
lutely,  "I  am  sure  you  tire  yourself  by  these  long 
walks." 


76  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?     !N"o  :  they  rest  me." 

"No  doubt  I  felt  more  coquettish,  and  had  more  con 
fidence  than  usual,  from  the  successes  of  that  evening, 
and  from  the  knowledge  that  Richard  and  Kili'an  and 
Eugene  Whitney,  even,  were  so  delighted  to  talk  to 
me ;  otherwise  I  could  never  have  said  what  I  said 
then,  by  a  sudden  impulse,  and  with  a  half-laughing 
voice,  "  Do  not  go  away  again  so  long ;  it  makes  it  so 
dull  and  tiresome." 

He  looked  at  me  and  said,  "  It  does  not  seem  to  me 
you  miss  me  very  much."  But  such  a  gleam  of  those 
dark,  dangerous  eyes !  I  looked  down,  but  my  breath 
came  quickly  and  my  face  must  have  shown  the  agita 
tion  that  I  felt. 

At  this  moment  Richard,  released  from  his  engage 
ment  in  the  library,  came  through  the  hall  and  stopped 
at  the  'dining-room  door.  He  paused  for  a  moment 
at  the  door,  walked  away  again,  then  came  back  and 
into  the  room,  with  rather  a  quicker  step  than  usual. 

"Pauline,"  he  said,  and  I  started  visibly,  "They 
seem  to  be  waiting  for  you  in  the  parlor  for  a  game  of 
cards." 

His  voice  indicated  anything  but  satisfaction.  I 
half  rose,  then  sank  back,  and  said,  hesitatingly, 
"  Can  I  pour  you  some  more  tea,  Mr.  Langenau  ? " 

"If  it  is  not  troubling  you  too  much,"  he  said  in  a 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  77 

voice  that  a  moment's  time  had  hardened  into  sharp 
ness. 

Oh,  the  misery  of  that  cup  of  tea,  with  Richard 
looking  at  me  on  one  side  flushed  and  angry,  and  Mr. 
Langenau  on  the  other,  pale  and  cynical.  My  hands 
shook  so  that  I  could  not  lift  the  tea-kettle,  and 
Richard  angrily  leaned  down  and  moved  it  for  me. 
The  alcohol  in  the  lamp  flamed  up  and  scorched  my  arm. 

"  Oh  Richard,  you  have  burned  me,"  I  cried,  drop 
ping  the  cup  and  wrapping  my  handkerchief  around 
my  arm.  In  an  instant  he  was  all  softness  and  kind 
ness,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  repentance. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said ;  "  Does  it  hurt  you 
very  much  ?  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  get  Sophie  to 
put  something  on  it." 

But  Mr.  Langenau  did  not  move  or  show  any 
interest  in  my  sufferings.  I  was  half-crying,  but  I 
sat  still  and  tried  with  the  other  hand  to  replace  the 
cup  and  fill  it.  Seeing  that  I  did  not  make  much 
headway,  and  that  Richard  had  stepped  back,  Mr. 
Langenau  said,  "  Allow  me,"  and  held  the  cup  while  I 
managed  to  pour  the  tea  into  it.  He  thanked  me 
stiffly,  and  without  looking  at  either  of  them  I  got  up 
and  went  out  of  the  room,  Richard  following  me. 

"  Will  you  wait  here  while  I  call  Sophie  to  get 
something  for  you  ?"  he  said  a  little  coldly. 


78  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  No,  I  do  not  want  anything ;  I  wish  you  would  not 
say  anything  more  about  it ;  it  only  hurt  me  for  a 
moment." 

"  Will  you  go  into  the  parlor,  then  ?" 

"No — yes,  that  is,"  I  said,  and  capriciously  went, 
alone,  for  he  did  not  follow  me. 

I  was  wanted  for  cards,  but  I  would  not  play,  and 
sat  down  by  one  of  the  windows,  a  little  out  of  the 
light.  This  window  opened  upon  the  piazza.  After 
a  little  while  Richard,  walking  up  and  down  the 
piazza,  stopped  by  it,  and  said  to  me :  "  I  hope  you 
won't  think  it  unreasonable  in  me  to  ask,  Pauline ;  but 
how  in  the  world  did  you  happen  to  be  making  tea 
for  that — that  man  in  there  \ " 

"  I  happened  to  make  tea  for  Mr.  Langenau  be 
cause  your  sister  asked  me  to,"  I  said  angrily ;  "  you 
had  better  speak  to  her  about  it." 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  shall,"  he  said,  walking  away 
from  the  window. 

Presently  the  tutor  came  in  from  the  hall  by  the 
door  near  the  piano,  and  sat  down  by  it  without  being 
asked,  and  began  to  play  softly,  as  if  not  to  interrupt 
the  game  of  cards.  I  could  not  help  thinking  in  what 
good  taste  this  was,  since  he  had  promised  not  to 
wait  for  any  more  importunities.  The  game  at  cards 
soon  languished,  for  Charlotte  Benson  really  had  an 


RICHAED  VANDERMARCK.  ?9 

enthusiasm  for  music,  and  was  not  happy  till  she  was 
at  liberty  to  give  her  whole  attention  to  it.  As  soon 
as  the  players  were  released,  Kilian  came  over  and  sat 
beside  me.  He  rather  wearied'  me,  for  I  wanted  to 
listen  to  the  music,  but  he  was  determined  not  to  see 
that,  and  chattered  so  that  more  than  once  Charlotte 
Benson  turned  impatiently  and  begged  us  not  to  talk. 
Once  Mr.  Langenau  himself  turned  and  looked  at  us, 
but  Kilian  only  paused,  and  then  went  on  again. 

Mary  Leighton  had  fled  to  the  piano  and  was  gazing 
at  the  keys  in  a  rapt  manner,  hoping,  no  doubt,  to 
rouse  Kilian  to  jealousy  of  the  tutor. 

"  Please  go  away,"  I  said  at  last,  "  this  is  making 
me  seem  rude." 

"Do  not  tell  me,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  you  are 
helping  Mary  Leighton  and  Sophie  to  spoil  this 
German  fellow.  I  really  did  not  look  for  it  in  you. 
I—" 

"  I  can't  stay  here  and  be  talked  to,"  I  said,  getting 
up  in. despair. 

"  Then  come  on  the  piazza,"  he  exclaimed,  and  we 
were  there  almost  before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing. 

I  suppose  every  one  in  the  room  saw  us  go  out :  I 
was  in  terror  when  I  thought  what  an  insult  it  would 
seem  to  Mr.  Langenau.  We  walked  about  the  piazza 
for  some  time;  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Kilian  found  me 


80  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

rather  dull,  for  I  could  only  listen  to  what  was  going 
on  inside.  At  last  he  was  called  away  by  a  man  from 
the  stable,  who  brought  some  alarming  account  of  his 
•beloved  Tom  or  Jerry.  If  I  had  been  his  bride  at 
the  altar,  I  am  sure  he  would  have  left  me ;  being 
only  a  new  and  very  faintly-lighted  flame,  he  hurried 
off  with  scarcely  an  apology. 

I  sat  down  in  a  piazza-chair,  just  outside  the  win 
dow  at  which  we  had  been  sitting.  I  looked  in  at  the 
window,  but  no  one  could  see  me,  from  the  position 
of  my  chair. 

Presently  Mr.  Langenau  left  the  piano,  and  Mary 
Leighton,  talking  to  him  with  effusion,  walked  across 
the  room  beside  him,  and  took  her  seat  at  this  very 
window.  He  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood  before  her 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  as  if  he  only  awaited  a  favor 
able  pause  to  go  away. 

"  Ah,  where  did  Pauline  go  ? "  she  said,  glancing 
around.  "  But  I  suppose  we  must  excuse  her,  for  to 
night  at  least,  as  he  has  just  come  home.  I  imagine 
the  engagement  was  no  surprise  to  you  ? " 

"  Of  what  engagement  do  you  speak  ? "  he  said. 

"  Why  !  Pauline  and  Richard  Yandermarck ;  you 
know  it  is  quite  a  settled  thing.  And  very  good  for 
her,  I  think.  He  seems  to  me  just  the  sort  of  man  to 
keep  her  steady  and — well,  improve  her  character,  you 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  81 

know.  She  seems  such  a  "heedless  sort  of  girl.  They 
say  her  mother  ran  away  and  made  some  horrid  mar 
riage,  and,  I  believe,  her  uncle  has  had  to  keep  her 
very  strict.  He  is  very  much  pleased,  I  am  told,  with 
marrying  her  to  Richard,  and  she  herself  seems  very 
much  in  love  with  him," 

All  this  time  he  had  stood  very  still  and  looked  at 
her,  but  his  face  had  changed  slowly  as  she  spoke.  I 
knew  then  that  what  she  had  said  had  not  pleased 
him.  She  went  on  in  her  babbling,  soft  voice : 

"  His  sister  Sophie  isn't  pleased,  of  course,  so  there 
is  nothing  said  about  it  here.  It  is  rather  hard  for 
her,  for  the  place  belongs  to  Richard,  and  besides, 
Richard  has  been  very  generous  to  her  always.  And 
then  to  see  him  marry  just  such  a  sort  of  person — you 
know — so  young — 

"  Yes — so  young,"  said  Mr.  Langenau,  between  his 
teeth,  "  and  of  such  charming  innocence." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  said  Mary  Leighton,  piqued  be 
yond  prudence,  "  we  all  have  our  own  views  as  to  that." 

The  largess  due  the  bearer  of  good  news  was  not  by 
right  the  meed  of  Mary  Leighton.  He  looked  at  her 
as  if  he  hated  her. 

"Mr.  Richard  Yandermarck  is  a  fortunate  man," 
he  said.  "  She  has  rare  beauty,  if  he  has  a  taste  for 

beauty." 

4* 


82  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Men  sometimes  tire  of  that ;  if  indeed  she  has  it. 
Her  coloring  is  her  strong  point,  and  that  may  not 
last  forever ;"  and  Mary's  voice  was  no  longer  silvery. 

"  You  think  so  ?"  he  said.  "  I  think  her  grace  is 
her  strong  point,  '  Id  grace  encore  plus  belle  que  Id 
beautej  and  longer-lived  beside.  Few  women  move 
as  she  does,  making  it  a  pleasure  to  follow  her  with 
the  eyes.  And  her  height  and  suppleness :  at  twenty- 
five  she  will  be  regal." 

"Then,  Mr.  Langenau,"  she  cried,  with  sudden 
spitefulness,  "  you  do  admire  her  very  much  yourself ! 
Do  you  know,  I  thought  perhaps  you  did.  How  you 
must  envy  Mr.  Yandermarck !" 

A  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a  slight  low 
laugh ;  after  which,  he  said,  "  No,  I  think  not.  I  have 
not  the  courage  that  is  necessary." 

"  The  courage !  why,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  a  man  who  ventures  to  love  a  woman 
in  whom  he  cannot  trust,  has  need  for  courage  and  for 
patience ;  perhaps  Mr.  Richard  Yandermarck  has 
them  both  abundantly.  For  me,  I  think  the  pretty 
Miss  Pauline  would  be  safer  as  an  hour's  amusement 
than  as  a  life's  companion." 

The  words  stabbed,  killed  me.  With  an  ejaculation 
that  could  scarcely  have  escaped  their  ears,  I  sprang 
up  and  ran  through  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs.  Be- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  83 

fore  I  readied  the  landing-place,  I  knew  that  some 
one  was  behind  me.  I  did  not  look  or  pause,  but  flew 
on  through  the  hall  till  I  reached  my  own  door.  My 
own  door  was  just  at  the  foot  of  the  third-floor  stair 
way.  I  glanced  back,  and  saw  that  it  was  Mr.  Lange- 
nau  who  was  behind  me.  i  pushed  open  my  door  and 
went  half-way  in  the  room ;  then  with  a  vehement 
and  sudden  impulse  came  back  into  the  hall  and 
pulled  it  shut  again  and  stood  with  my  hand  upon  the 
latch,  and  waited  for  him  to  pass.  In  an  instant  more 
he  was  near  me,  but  not  as  if  he  saw  me ;  he  could 
not  reach  the  stairway  without  passing  so  near  me 
that  he  must  touch  my  dress.  I  waited  till  he  was  so 
near,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Langenau." 

He  raised  his  eyes  steadily  to  mine  and  bowed  low. 
I  almost  choked  for  one  instant,,  and  then  I  found 
voice  and  rushed  on  vehemently.  "  What  she  has  told 
you  is  false  ;  every  word  of  it  is  false.  I  am  not  engaged 
to  Richard  Yandermarck ;  I  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing  till  I  came  here,  and  found  they  talked  about 
t.  They  ought  to  be  ashamed,  and  I  will  go  away 
to-morrow.  And  what  she  said  about  my  mother  is  a 
wicked  lie  as  well,  at  least  in  the  way  she  meant  it ; 
and  I  shall'hate  her  all  my  life.  I  have  been  mother 
less  and  lonely  always,  but  God  has  cared  for  me,  and 
I  never  knew  before  what  evil  thoughts  and  ways  there 


84:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

were.  I  am  not  ashamed  that  I  listened,  though  I  didn't 
mean  to  stay  at  first.  I'm  glad  I  heard  it  all  and 
know  what  kind  of  friends  I  have.  And  those  last 
cruel  words  you  said — I  never  will  forgive  yon, 
never — never — never  till  I  die." 

He  had  put  his  hand  out  toward  me  as  if  in  con 
ciliation,  at  least  I  understood  it  so.  I  pushed  it 
passionately  away,  rushed  into  my  room,  bolted  the 
door,  and  flung  myself  upon  the  bed  with  a  frightful 
burst  of  sobs.  I  heard  his  hand  upon  the  latch  of  the 
door,  and  he  said  my  name  several  times  in  a  low 
voice.  Then  he  went  slowly  up  the  stairs.  And  I 
think  his  room  must  have  been  directly  over  mine,  for, 
for  hours  I  heard  some  one  walking  there ;  indeed,  it 
was  the  last  sound  I  heard,  when,  having  cried  all  my 
tears  and  vowed  all  my  vows,  I  fell  asleep  and  forgot 
that  I  was  wretched. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SUNDAY. 
La  notte  e  madre  di  perisieri. 

Now  tell  me  how  you  are  as  to  religion  ? 
You  are  a  dear  good  man — but  I  rather  fear 

You  have  not  much  of  it. 

Faust. 

IT  was  all  very  well  to  talk  about  going  away  ;  but 
the  matter  looked  very  differently  by  daylight.  It 
was  Sunday ;  and  I  knew  I  could  not  go  away  for  a 
day  or  two,  and  not  even  then  without  making  a 
horrid  sort  of  stir,  for  which  I  had  not  the  courage  in 
cold  blood.  Besides,  I  did  not  even  know  that  I 
wanted  to  go  if  I  could.  Varick-street !  Hateful, 
hateful  thought.  !NY>,  I  could  not  go  there.  And 
though  (by  daylight)  I  still  detested  Mary  Leighton, 
and  felt  ashamed  about  Richard,  and  remembered  all 
Mr.  Langenau's  words  (sweet  as  well  as  bitter),  every 
thing  was  let  down  a  great  many  degrees ;  from  the 
heights  of  passion  into  the  plains  of  commonplace. 

My  great  excitement  had  worked  its  own  cure,  and 
I  was  so  dull  and  weary  that  I  did  not  even  want  to 
think  of  what  had  passed  the  night  before.  If  I  had 


86  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

a  sentiment  that  retained  any  strength,  it  was  that  of 
shame  and  self-contempt.  I  could  not  think  of  myself 
in  any  way  that  did  not  make  me  blush.  When,  how 
ever,  it  came  to  the  moment  of  facing  every  one,  and 
going  down  to  breakfast,  I  began  to  know  I  still  had 
some  other  feelings. 

I  was  the  last  to  go  down.  The  bell  had  rung  a 
very  long  while  before  I  left  my  room.  I  took  my 
seat  at  the  table  without  looking  at  any  one,  though, 
of  course,  every  one  looked  at  me.  My  confused  and 
rather  general  good-morning  was  returned  with  much 
precision  by  all.  Somebody  remarked  that  I  did  not 
look  well.  Somebody  else  remarked  that  was  surely 
because  I  went  to  bed  so  early ;  that  it  never  had 
been  known  to  agree  with  any  one.  Some  one  else 
wanted  to  know  why  I  had  gone  so  early,  and  that  I 
had  been  hunted  for  in  all  directions  for  a  dance  which 
had  been  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"  But  as  you  had  gone  away,  and  the  musician  could 
not  be  found,  we  had  to  give  it  up,"  said  Charlotte 
Benson,  "  and  we  owe  you  both  a  grudge." 

"  For  my  part,  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Lang- 
enau.  "  I  had  no  thought  that  you  meant  to  dance 
last  night,  or  I  should  have  stayed  at  the  piano ;  I 
hope  you  will  tell  me  the  next  time." 

"  The  next  time  will  be  to-morrow  evening,"  said 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  87 

Mary  Leighton.  "  Now,  Mr.  Langenau,  you  will  not 
forget — or — or  get  excited  about  anything  and  go 
away?" 

I  dared  not  look  at  Mr.  Langenau's  face,  but  I  am 
sure  I  should  not  have  seen  anything  pleasant  if  I 
had.  I  don't  know  what  he  answered,  for  I  was  so 
confused,  I  dropped  a  plate  of  berries  which  I  was 
just  taking  from  Kilian' s  hand,  and  made  quite  an 
uncomfortable  commotion.  The  berries  were  very 
ripe,  and  they  rolled  in  many  directions  on  the  table 
cloth,  and  fell  on  my  white  dress. 

"Your  pretty  dress  is  ruined,  I'm  afraid,"  said 
Kilian,  stooping  down  to  save  it. 

"  I  don't  care  about  that,  but  I'm  very  sorry  that 
I've  stained  the  table-cloth,"  and  I  looked  at  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck  as  if  I  thought  that  she  would  scold  me 
for  it.  But  she  quite  reassured  me.  Indeed,  I  think 
she  was  so  pleased  with  me,  that  she  would  not  have 
minded  seeing  me  ruin  all  the  table-cloths  that  she  had. 

"  But  it  will  make  you  late  for  church,  for  you'll 
have  to  change  your  dress,"  said  Charlotte  Benson, 
practically,  glancing  at  the  clock.  I  was  very  thank 
ful  for  the  suggestion,  for  I  thought  it  would  save  me 
from  the  misery  of  trying  to  eat  breakfast,  but  Kilian 
made  such  an  outcry  that  I  found  I  could  not  go 
without  more  comments  than  I  liked. 


88  RICHARD,  VANDERMARCK 

"  You  have  no  appetite  either,"  said  Mary  Leighton. 
"  I  am  ashamed  to  eat  as  much  as  I  want,  for  here  is 
Mr.  Langenau  beside  me,  who  has  only  broken  a  roll 
in  two  and  drank  a  cup  of  coffee." 

"  I  am  not  perhaps  quite  used  to  your  American 
way  of  breakfasting,"  he  returned  quickly. 

"  But  you  ate  breakfasts  when  we  first  came,"  said 
the  sweet  girl  gently. 

"  Was  not  the  weather  cooler  then  ?"  he  answered, 
"  and  I  have  missed  my  walk  this  morning." 

"  Let  me  give  you  some  more  coffee,  at  any  rate," 
said  Sophie,  with  affectionate  interest.  Indeed,  I 
think  at  that  moment  she  absolutely  loved  him. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  escaped  from  the  table  ;  when  I 
came  down  from  my  room  ready  for  church,  I  found 
that  they  were  all  just  starting.  (Richard,  I  suppose, 
would  have  waited  for  me.)  The  church  was  in  the 
village,  and  not  ten  minutes'  walk  from  tke  house. 
Kilian  was  carrying  Mary  Leighton's  prayer-book, 
and  was  evidently  intending  to  walk  with  her. 

Richard  came  up  to  me  and  said,  "  Sophie  is  waiting 
to  know  if  you  will  let  her  drive  you,  or  if  you  will 
walk." 

I  had  not  yet  been  obliged  to  speak  to  Richard 
since  I  had  heard  what  people  said  about  us,  and  I 
felt  uncomfortable. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  89 

"  Oh,  let  me  drive  if  there  is  room,"  I  said,  without 
looking  up.  Sophie  sat  in  her  little  carriage  waiting 
for  rne.  Richard  put  me  in  beside  her,  and  then 
joined  the  others,  while  we  drove  away.  Benny,  in 
his  white  Sunday  clothes,  sat  at  our  feet. 

"  I  think  it  is  so  much  better  for  you  to  drive,"  said 
Mrs.  Hollenbeck,  "  for  the  day  is  warm,  and  1  did  not 
think  you  looked  at  all  well  this  morning." 

"No,"  I  said  faintly.  And  she  was  so  kind,  I 
longed  to  tell  her  everything.  It  is  frightful  at  seven 
teen  to  have  no  one  to  tell  your  troubles  to. 

At  the  gate  Benny  was  just  grumbling  about  get 
ting  out  to  open  it,  when  Mr.  Langenau  appeared,  and 
held  it  open  for  us.  He  was  dressed  in  a  flannel  suit 
which  he  wore  for  walking.  After  he  closed  the  gate, 
he  came  up  beside  the  carriage,  as  Mrs.  Hollenbeck 
very  kindly  invited  him  to  do,  by  driving  slowly. 

"  Are  you  coming  with  us  to  church,  Mr.  Lang 
enau  ?"  asked  Benny. 

"  To  church  ?  JSTo,  Benny.  I  am  afraid  they 
would  not  let  me  in." 

"Why,  yes,  they  would,  if  you  had  your  good 
clothes  on,"  said  Benny. 

Mr.  Langenau  laughed,  a  little  bitterly,  and  said 
he  doubted,  even  then.  "  I  am  afraid  I  haven't  got 
my  good  conscience  on  either,  Benny." 


90  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  But  the  minister  would  never  know,"  said  Benny. 

"  That's  very  true ;  the  ministers  here  don't  know 
much  about  peoples'  consciences,  I  should  think." 

"  Do  ministers  in  any  other  places  know  any  more  ?" 
asked  Benny  with  interest. 

"  Why,  yes,  Benny,  in  a  good  many  countries  where 
I've  been,  they  do." 

"  You  are  a  Catholic,  Mr.  Langenau  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck. 

"  I  once  was ;  I  have  no  longer  any  right  to  say  it 
is  my  faith,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"What  is  it  to  be  a  Catholic?"  inquired  Benny, 
gazing  at  his  tutor's  face  with  wonder. 

"  To  be  a  Catholic,  ffipto  be  in  a  safe  prison  ;  to  have 
been  a  Catholic,  is  to  be  alone  on  a  sea  big  and  black 
with  billows,  Benny." 

"  I  think  I'd  like  the  prison  best,"  said  Benny,  who 
was  very  much  afraid  of  the  water. 

"  Ah,  but  if  you  couldn't  get  back  to  it,  my  boy." 

"Well,  I  think  I'd  try  to  get  to  land  somewhere," 
Benny  answered,  stoutly. 

Mr.  Langenau  laughed,  but  rather  gloomily,  and 
we  went  on  for  a  few  moments  in  silence.  The  road 
was  bordered  with  trees,  and  there  was  a  beautiful 
shade.  The  horse  was  very  glad  to  be  permitted  to 
go  slow,  not  being  of  an  ambitious  nature. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  91 

All  this  time  I  had  been  leaning  back,  holding  my 
parasol  very  close  over  my  face.  Mr.  Langenau  hap 
pened  to  be  on  the  side  by  me :  once  when  the  car 
riage  had  leaned  suddenly,  he  had  put  his  hand  upon 
it,  and  had  touched,  without  intending  it,  my  arm. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  had  said,  and  that  was  all 
he  had  said  to  me ;  and  I  had  felt  very  grateful  that 
Benny  .had  been  so  inclined  to  talk.  I  trusted  that 
nobody  would  speak  to  me,  for  my  voice  would  never 
be  steady  and  even  again,  I  was  sure,  when  he  was  by 
to  listen  to  it. 

Now,  however,  he  spoke  to  me:  commonplace 
words,  the  same  almost  that  every  one  in  the  house 
had  addressed  to  me  that  morniag,  but  how  differently 
they  sounded. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  not  well  to-day,  Miss 
d'Estree." 

Mrs.  Hollenbeck  at  this  moment  began  to  find 
some  fault  with  Benny's  gloves,  and  leaning  down, 
talked  very  obligingly  and  earnestly  with  him,  while 
she  fastened  the  gloves  upon  his  hands. 

Mr.  Langenau  took  the  occasion,  as  it  was  intended 
he  should  take  it,  and  said  rather  low,  "  You  will  not 
refuse  to  see  me  a  few  moments  this  evening,  that  I 
may  explain  something  to  you  ? " 

I  think  he  was  disappointed  that  I  did  not  answer 


92  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

him,  only  turned  away  my  head.  But  I  don't  know 
in  truth  what  other  answer  he  had  any  right  to  ask. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  speak  again,  but  as  we  turned 
into  the  village,  said,  "  Good-morning,  I  must  leave 
you.  Good-bye,  Benny,  since  I  have  neither  clothes 
nor  conscience  fit  for  church." 

Sophie  laughed,  and  said,  at  least  she  hoped  he 
would  be  home  for  dinner.  He  did  not  promise,  but 
raising  his  hat  struck  off  into  a  little  path  by  the  road 
side,  that  led  up  into  the  woods. 

"  "What  a  pity,"  said  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  musingly, 
"  that  a  man  of  such  fine  intellect  should  have  such 
vague  religious  faith." 

Mr.  Langenau  was  »t  home  for  dinner,  but  he  did 
not  see  me  at  that  meal,  for  my  head  ached  so,  and  I 
felt  so  weary  that  when  I  came  up-stairs  after  church, 
it  seemed  impossible  to  go  down  again.  I  should  have 
been  very  glad  to  make  the  same  excuse  serve  for  the 
remainder  of  the  day,  but  really  the  rest  and  a  cup  of 
tea  had  so  restored  me,  that  no  excuse  remained  at  six 
o'clock. 

All  families  have  their  little  Sunday  habits,  I  have 
found ;  the  Sunday  rule  in  this  house  was,  to  have  tea 
at  half-past  six,  and  to  walk  by  the  river  till  after  the 
sun  had  set;  then  to  come  home  and  have  sacred 
music  in  the  parlor.  After  tea,  accordingly,  we  took 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  93 

our  shawls  on  our  arms  (it  still  being  very  warm)  and 
walked  down  toward  the  river. 

I  kept  beside  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  and  Benny,  where 
only  I  felt  safe. 

The  criticism  I  had  heard  had  given  me  such  a 
shock,  I  did  not  feel  that  I  ever  could  be  careful 
enough  of  what  I  said  and  did.  And  I  vaguely  felt 
my  mother's  honor  would  be  vindicated,  if  I  showed 
myself  always  a  modest  and  prudent  woman. 

"  It  was  so  well  that  I  heard  them,"  I  kept  saying 
to  myself,  but  I  felt  so  much  older  and  so  much 
graver.  My  silence  and  constraint  were  no  doubt 
differently  interpreted.  Richard  did  not  come  up  to 
me,  except  to  tell  me  I  had  better  put  my  shawl  on, 
as  I  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  boat-house,  with  Benny 
beside  me.  The  others  had  walked  further  on  and 
were  sitting,  some  of  them  on  the  rocks,  and  some  on 
the  boat  that  had  been  drawn  up,  watching  the  sun 
go  down. 

"  Tell  me  a  story,"  said  Benny,  resting  his  arms  on 
my  lap,  "  a  story  about  when  you  were  a  little  girl." 

"  Oh,  Benny,  that  wouldn't  make  a  pretty  story." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  would :  all  about  your  mamma  and  the 
house  you  used  to  live  in,  and  the  children  you  used 
to  go  to  see." 

"  Dear  Benny  !  I  never  lived  in  but  one  old,  dismal 


94:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

house.     I  never  went  to  play  with  any  children.     I 
could  not  make  a  story  out  of  that." 

"  But  your  mamma.  O  yes,  I'm  sure  you  could  if 
you  tried  very  hard." 

"  Ah,  Benny !  that's  the  worst  of  all.  For  my 
mamma  lias  been  with  God  and  the  good  angels  in 
the  sky,  ever  since  I  was  a  little  baby,  and  I  have 
had  a  dreary  time  without  her  here  alone." 

"  Then  I  think  you  might  tell  me  about  God  and 
the  good  angels,"  whispered  Benny,  getting  closer 
to  me. 

I  wrapped  my  arms  around  him,  and  leaning  my 
face  down  upon  his  yellow  curls,  told  him  a  story  of 
God  and  the  good  angels  in  the  sky. 

Dear  little  Benny  !  I  always  loved  him  from  that 
night.  He  cried  over  my  story  :  that  I  suppose  wins 
everybody's  heart :  and  we  went  together,  looking  at 
the  placid  river  and  the  pale  blue  firmament,  very  far 
into  the  paradise  of  faith.  My  tears  dropped  upon 
his  upturned  face ;  and  when  the  stars  came  out,  and 
we  were  told  it  was  time  to  go  back  to  the  house, 
we  went  back  hand  in  hand,  firm  friends  for  all  life 
from  that  Sunday  night. 

•  "  There  is  Mr.  Langenau,"  said  Benny ;  "  waiting 
for  you,  I  should  think." 

Mr.  Langenau  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  piazza, 


R1CHAED  VANDERMARCK.  95 

steps.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  mine  as  if  waiting  for  my 
permission  to  speak  again.  But  I  fastened  my  eyes 
upon  the  ground,  and  holding  Benny  tightly  by  the 
hand,  went  on  into  the  house. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

A   DANCE. 

It  is  impossible  to  love  and  to  be  wise. 

Bacon. 

•\  '  ., 

Niente  piu  tosto  se  secca  eke  lagrime. 

"  THIS  is  -what  we  must  do  about  it,"  said  Kilian, 
as  we  sat  around  the  breakfast-table.  "  If  you  are 
still  in  a  humor  for  the  dance  to-night,  I  will  order 
Tom  and  Jerry  to  be  brought  up  at  once,  and  Miss 
Pauline  and  I  will  go  out  and  deliver  all  the  invita 
tions." 

"Of  which  there  are  about  five,"  said  Charlotte 
Benson.  "  You  can  spare  Tom  and  Jerry  and  send 
a  small  toy-" 

"  But  what  if  I  had  rather  go  myself  ? "  he  said, 
"  and  Miss  Pauline  needs  the  air.  Now  there  are — 
let  me  see,"  and  he  began  to  count  up  the  dancing 
inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood. 

"  Will  you  write  notes  or  shall  we  leave  a  verbal 
message  at  each  door  ? " 

"  Oh  leave  a  verbal  message  by  all  means,"  said 
Charlotte  Benson,  a  little  sharply.  "  It  won't  be  quite 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  97 

en  regie,  as  Miss  d'Estree  doesn't  know  the  people,  but 
so  unconventional  and  fresh." 

"I  do  know  them,"  I  retorted,  much  annoyed, 
"  conventionally  at  least :  for  they  have  all  called  upon 
me,  though  I  didn't  see  them  all.  But  I  shall  be  very 
glad  if  you  will  take  my  place." 

"  Oh,  thank  you ;  I  wasn't  moving  an  amendment 
for  that  end.  We  have  made  our  arrangements  for 
the  morning,  irrespective  of  the  delivery  of  cards." 

"I  shall  have  time  to  write  the  notes  first,  if  Sophie, 
would  rather  have  notes  sent,"  said  Henrietta,  who 
wrote  a  good  hand  and  was  very  fond  of  writing 
people's  notes  for  them. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  dear ;  yes,  perhaps  it  would  be  best, 
and  save  Pauline  an^  Kilian  trouble." 

So  Henrietta  went  grandly  away  to  write  her  little 
notes :  a  very  large  ship  on  a  very  small  voyage. 

"  And  how  about  your  music,  Sophie,"  said  Kilian, 
who  was  anxious  to  have  all  business  matters  settled 
relating  to  the  evening. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  had  better  go  for  the  music- 
teacher  from  the  village ;  he  plays  very  well  for  danc 
ing,  and  it  is  a  mercy  to  me  and  to  poor  Henrietta, 
who  would  have  to  be  pinned  to  the  piano  for  the 
evening,  if  we  didn't  have  him." 

"  As  to  that,  I  thought  we  had  a  music-teacher  of 


98  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

our  own :  can't  your  German  be  made  of  any  prac 
tical  account?  Or  is  he  only  to  be  looked  at  and 
revered  for  his  great  powers  ? " 

"  I  didn't  engage  Mr.  Langenau  to  play  for  us  to 
dance,"  said  Sophie. 

"Nor  to  lounge  about  the  parlor  every  evening 
either,"  muttered  Kilian,  pushing  away  his  cup  of 
coffee. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Kilian,  pray  don't  let  our  admiration  of 
the  tutor  drive  you  into  any  bitterness  of  feeling," 
cried  Charlotte  Benson,  who  had  been  treasuring  up 
a  store  of  little  slights  from  Kilian.  "  You  know  he 
can't  be  blamed  for  it,  poor  man." 

Kilian  was  so  much  annoyed  that  he  did  not  trust 
himself  to  answer,  but  rose  from^the  table,  and  asked 
me  if  I  would  drive  with  him  in  half  an  hour. 

During  the  drive,  he  exclaimed  angrily  that 
Charlotte  Benson  had  a  tongue  that  would  drive  a 
man  to  suicide  if  he  came  in  hearing  of  it  daily. 
"  Why,  if  she  were  as  beautiful  as  a  goddess,  I  could 
never  love  her.  Depend  upon  it,  she'll  never  get  a 
husband,  Miss  Pauline." 

"  Some  men  like  to  be  scolded,  I  have  heard,"  I  said. 

"  Well  then,  if  you  ever  stumble  upon  one  that  does, 
just  call  me  and  I'll  run  and  fetch  him  Charlotte 
Benson." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  99 

The  morning  was  lovely,  and  I  had  much  pleasure 
in  the  drive,  though  I  had  not  gone  with  any  idea  of 
enjoying  it.  It  was  very  exhilarating  to  drive  so 
fast  as  Kilian  always  drove;  and  Kilian  himself 
always  amused  me  and  made  me  feel  at  ease.  We 
were  very  companionable ;  and  though  I  could  not 
understand  how  young  ladies  could  make .  a  hero  of 
him,  and  fancy  that  they  loved  him,  I  could  quite 
understand  how  they  should  find  him  delightful  and 
amusing. 

We  delivered  .pur  notes,  at  more  than  one  place, 
into  the  hands  of  those  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
and  had  many  pleasant  talks  at  the  piazza  steps  with 
young  ladies  whom  I  had  not  known  before.  Then 
we  went  to  the  village  and  engaged  the  music-teacher, 
stopped  at  the  "  store  "  and  left  some  orders,  and  drove 
to  the  Post-Office  to  see  if  there  were  letters. 

"Haven't  we  had  a  nice  morning!"  I  exclaimed 
simply,  as  we  drove  up  to  the  gate. 

"  Capital,"  said  Kilian.  "  I'm  afraid  it's  been  the 
best  part  of  the  day.  I  wish  I  had  any  assurance  that 
the  German  would  be  half  as  pleasant.  I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  don't  mean  your  surly  Teuton,  but  the 
dance  that  we  propose  to-night ;  I  wish  it  had  another 
name.  Confound  it!  there  he  is  ahead  of  us.  (I 
don't  mean  the  dance  this  time,  you  see.)  I  wish  he'd 


100  EICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

turn  back  and  open  the  gate  for  us.  Holloa 
there!" 

Kilian  would  not  have  dared  call  out,  if  the  boys 
had  not  been  with  their  tutor.  It  was  one  o'clock, 
and  they  were  coming  from  the  farm-house  back  to 
dinner.  At  the  call  they  all  turned ;  Mr.  Langenau 
stood  still,  and  told  Charles  to  go  back  and  open  the 
gate. 

Kilian  frowned ;  he  didn't  like  to  see  his  nephew 
ordered  to  do  anything  by  this  unpleasant  German. 
While  we  were  waiting  for  the  opening  of  the  gate, 
the  tutor  walked  on  toward  the  house  with  Benny. 
As  we  passed  them,  Benny  called  out,  "  Stop,  Uncle 
Kilian,  stop,  and  take  me  in."  Benny  never  was 
denied  anything,  so  we  stopped  and  Mr.  Langenau 
lifted  him  up  in  front  of  us.  He  bowed  without 
speaking,  and  Benny  was  the  orator  of  the  occa 
sion. 

"You  looked  as  if  you  were  having  such  a  nice 
time,  I  thought  I'd  like  to  come." 

"  Well,  we  were,"  said  Kilian,  with  a  laugh,  and 
then  we  drove  on  rapidly. 

At  the  tea-table  Mr.  Langenau  said  to  Sophie  as  he 
rose  to  go  away :  "  Mrs.  Hollenbeck,  if  there  is  any 
service  I  can  render  you  this  evening  at  the  piano,  I , 
shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will  let  me  know." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  101 

Mrs.  Hollenbeck  thanked  him  with  cordiality,  but 
told  him  of  the  provision  that  had  been  made. 

"  But  you  will  dance,  Mr.  Langenau,"  cried  Mary 
Leighton,  "  we  need  dancing-men  terribly,  you  know. 
Promise  me  you'll  dance." 

"Oh,"  said  Charlotte  Benson,  "he  has  promised 
me."  Mr.  Langenau  bowed  low ;  he  got  wonderfully 
through  these  awkward  situations.  As  he  left  the 
room  Kilian  said  in  a  tone  loud  enough  for  us,  but  not 
for  him,  to  hear,  "  The  Lowders  have  a  nice  young 
gardener;  hadn't  we  better  send  to  see  if  he  can't 
come  this  evening  ? " 

"  Kilian,  that's  going  a  little  too  far,"  said  Richard 
in  a  displeased  manner ;  "  as  long  as  the  boys'  tutor 
conducts  himself  like  a  gentleman,  he  deserves  to  be 
treated  like  a  gentleman." 

"  Ah,  Paterfamilias;  thank  you.  Yes,  I'll  think  of 
it,"  and  Kilian  proposed  that  we  should  leave  the 
table,  as  we  all  seemed  to  have  appeased  our  appetites 
and  nothing  but  civil  war  could  come  of  staying  any 
longer. 

It  was  understood  we  had  not  much  time  to  dress : 
but  when  I  came  down-stairs,  none  of  the  others  had 
appeared.  Richard  met  me  in  the  hall :  he  had  been 
rather  stern  to  me  all  day,  but  his  manner  quite  soft 
ened  as  he  stood  beside  me  under  the  hall-lamp. 


102  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

That  was  the  result  of  my  lovely  white  mull,  with 
its  mint  of  Valenciennes. 

"You  haven't  any  flowers,"  he  said.  Heavens! 
who'd  have  thought  he'd  ever  have  spoken  in  such  a 
tone  again,  after  the  cup  of  tea  I  poured  out  for  the 
tutor.  "Let's  go  and  see  if  we  can't  find  some  in 
these  vases  that  are  fit,  for  I  suppose  the  garden's 
robbed." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  following  him,  quite  pleased.  For 
I  could  not  bear  to  have  him  angry  with  me.  I  was 
really  fond  of  him,  dear,  old  Richard ;  and  I  looked 
so  happy  that  I  have  no  doubt  he  thought  more  of  it 
than  he  ought.  He  pulled  all  the  pretty  vases  in  the 
parlor  to  pieces:  (Charlotte  and  Henrietta  and  his 
sister  had  arranged  them  with  such  care !)  and  made 
me  a  bouquet  of  ferns,  and  tea-roses,  and  lovely,  lovely 
heliotrope.  I  begged  him  to  'stop,  but  he  went  on 
till  the  flowers  were  all  arranged  and  tied  together, 
and  no  one  came  down-stairs  till  the  spoilage  was 
complete. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Langenau  was  in  the  library — rest 
less,  pretending  to  read  a  book.  I  saw  him  as  we 
passed  the  door,  but  did  not  look  again.  Presently 
we  heard  the  sound  of  wheels. 

"  There,"  said  Richard,  feeling  the  weight  of  hos 
pitality  upon  him,  "  Sophie  isn't  down.  How  like  her !" 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  1Q3 

But  at  the  last  moment,  to  save  appearances,  Sophie 
came  down  the  stairs  and  went  into  the  parlor :  in 
dolent,  favored  Sophie,  who  always  came  out  right 
when  things  looked  most  against  it. 

In  a  little  while  the  empty  rooms  were  peopled. 
Dress  improved  the  young  ladies  of  the  house  very 
much,  and  the  young  ladies  who  came  were  some  of 
them  quite  pretty.  The  gentlemen  seemed  to  me 
very  tiresome  and  not  at  all  good-looking.  Richard 
was  quite  a  king  among  them,  with  his  square 
shoulders,  and  his  tawny  moustache,  and  his  blue 
eyes. 

There  were  not  quite  gentlemen  enough,  and  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck  fluttered  into  the  library  to  hunt  up  Mr. 
Langenau,  and  he  presently  came  out  with  her.  He 
was  dressed  with  more  care  than  usual,  and  suitably 
for  evening :  he  had  the  wive  attentive  manner  that 
is  such  a  contrast  to  most  young  men  in  this  country : 
everybody  looked  at  him  and  wondered  who  he  was. 
The  music-teacher  was  playing  vigorously,  and  so,  be 
fore  the  German  was  arranged,  several  impetuous 
souls  flew  away  in  waltzes  up  and  down  the  room. 
The  parlor  was  a  very  large  room.  It  had  originally 
been  two  rooms,  but  had  been  thrown  into  one,  as 
some  pillars  and  a  slight  arch  testified.  The  ceiling 
was  rather  low,  but  the  many  windows  which  opened 


104:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

on  the  piazza,  and  the  unusual  size  of  the  room,  made 
it  very  pretty  for  a  dance.  Mary  Leighton  and  the 
tutor  were  dancing ;  somebody  was  talking  to  me,  but 
I  only  saw  that. 

"  How  well  he  dances,"  I  heard  some  one  exclaim. 

'I'm  afraid  it  must  have  been  Richard  whom  I  forgot 
to  answer  just  before :  for  I  saw  him  twist  his  yellow 
moustache  into  his  mouth  and  bite  it ;  a  bad  sign 
with  him. 

Kilian  was  to  lead  with  Mary  Leighton,  and  he 
came  up  to  where  we  stood,  and  said  to  Richard,  "  I 
suppose  you  have  Miss  Pauline  for  your  partner  f 

Now  I  had  been  very  unhappy  for  some  time, 
dreading  the  moment,  but  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  tell  the  truth.  So  I  said,  "  I  hope  you  are  not 
counting  upon  me  for  dancing  ?  You  know  I  cannot 
dance !" 

"Not  dance!"  cried  Kilian,  in  amazement ;  "why, 
I  never  dreamed  of  that." 

"  You  don't  like  it,  Pauline  ? "  said  Richard,  look 
ing  at  me. 

"Like  it!"  I  said,  impatiently.  "Why,  I  don't 
know  how ;  who  did  I  ever  have  to  dance  with  in 
Yarick-street  ?  Ann  Coddle  or  old  Peter  ?  And  Uncle 
Leonard  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  sending  me 
to  school." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  105 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before,  and  we  wouldn't 
have  bothered  about  this  stupid  dance,"  said  Kilian ; 
but  I  think  he  didn't  mean  it,  for  he  enjoyed  dancing 
very  much. 

Richard  had  to  go  away,  for  though  he  hated  it,  he 
was  needed,  as  they  had  not  gentlemen  enough. 

The  one  or  two  persons  who  had  been  introduced 
to  me,  on  going  to  join  the  dance,  also  expressed  re 
gret.  Even  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  came  up,  and  said  how 
sorry  she  was :  she  had  supposed  I  danced. 

But  they  all  went  away,  and  I  was  left  by  one  of 
the  furthest  windows  with  a  tiresome  old  man,  who 
didn't  dance  either,  because  his  legs  weren't  strong 
enough,  and  who  talked  and  talked  till  I  asked  him 
not  to ;  which  he  didn't  seem  to  like.  But  to  have 
to  talk,  with  the  noise  of  the  music,  and  the  stir  of 
the  dancing,  and  the  whirl  that  is  always  going  on  in 
such  a  room,  is  penance.  I  told  him  it  made  my 
head  ache,  and  besides  I  couldn't  hear,  and  so  at  last 
he  went  away,  and  I  was  left  alone. 
I  Sometimes  in  pauses  of  the  dance  Richard  came 
up  to  me,  and  sometimes  Kilian  ;  but  it  had  the  effect 
of  making  me  more  uncomfortable,  for  it  made  every 
body  turn  and  look  at  me.  Bye  and  bye  I  stole  away 
and  went  on  the  piazza,  and  looked  in  where  no  one 

could  see  me.     I  could  not  go  away  entirely,  for  I  was 

5* 


106  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

fascinated  by  the  dance.  I  longed  so  to  be  dancing, 
and  had  such  bitter  feelings  because  I  never  had  been 
taught.  After  I  left  the  room,  I  could  see  Richard 
was  uncomfortable  ;  he  looked  often  at  the  door,  and 
was  not  very  attentive  to  his  partner.  No  one  else 
seemed  to  miss  me.  Mr.  Langenau  talked  constantly 
to  Miss  Lowder,  with  whom  he  had  been  dancing,  and 
never  looked  once  toward  where  I  had  been  sitting. 
A  long  time  after,  when  they  had  been  dancing — hours 
it  seemed  to  me — Miss  Lowder  seemed  to  feel  faint  or 
tired,  and  Mr.  Langenau  came  out  with  her,  and  took 
her  up-stairs  to  the  dressing-room. 

Ashamed  to  be  seen  looking  in  at  the  window,  I 
ran  into  the  library  and  sat  down.  There  was  a  stu 
dent's  lamp  upon  the  table,  but  the  room  had  no  other 
light.  I  sat  leaning  back  in  a  large  chair  by  the  table, 
with  my  bouquet  in  my  lap,  buttoning  and  unbutton 
ing  absently  my  long  white  gloves.  In  a  moment  I 
heard  Mr.  Langenau  come  down-stairs  alone :  he  had 
left  Miss  Lowder  in  the  dressing-room  to  rest  there : 
he  came  directly  toward  the  library. 

He  came  half-way  in  the  door,  then  paused.  "  May 
I  speak  to  you  ?"  he  said  slowly,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
mine.  "  I  seem  to  be  the  only  one  who  is  forbidden, 
of  those  who  have  offended  you  and  of  those  who 
have  not.'5 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  10T 

"  No  one  has  said  what  you  have,"  I  said  very 
faintly. 

In  an  instant  he  was  standing  beside  me,  with  one 
hand  resting  on  the  table. 

"  Will  you  listen  to  me,"  he  said,  bending  a  little 
toward  me  and  speaking  in  a  quick,  low  voice,  "  I  did 
say  what  you  have  a  right  to  resent ;  but  I  said  it  in  a 
moment  when  I  was  not  master  of  my  words.  I  had 
just  heard  something  that  made  me  doubt  my  senses : 
and  my  only  thought  was  how  to  save  myself,  and  not 
to  show  how  I  was  staggered  by  it.  I  am  a  proud 
man,  and  it  is  hard  to  tell  you  this — but  I  cannot  bear 
this  coldness  from,  you — and  I  ask  you  to  forgive 
me." 

His  eyes,  his  voice,  had  all  their  unconquerable  in 
fluence  upon  me.  I  bent  over  Richard's  poor  flowers, 
and  palled  them  to  pieces  while  I  tried  to  speak. 
There  was  a  silence,  during  which  he  must  have  heard 
the  loud  beating  of  my  heart,  I  think  :  at  last  he  spoke 
again  in  a  lower  voice,  "  Will  you  not  be  kind,  and 
say  that  we  are  friends  once  more  ?" 

I  said  something  that  was  inaudible  to  him,  and  he 
stooped  a  little  nearer  me  to  catch  it.  I  made  a  great 
effort  and  commanded  my  voice  and  said,  very  low, 
but  with  an  attempt  to  speak  lightly,  "  You  have  not 
made  it  any  better,  but  I  will  forget  it." 


108  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

He  caught  my  hand  for  one  instant,  then  let  it  go 
as  suddenly.  And  neither  of  us  could  speak. 

There  is  no  position  more  false  and  trying  than  a 
woman's,  when  she  is  told  in  this  way  that  a  man 
loves  her,  and  yet  has  not  been  told  it ;  when  she  must 
seem  not-  to  see  what  she  would  be  an  idiot  not  to  see  ; 
when-he  can  say  what  he  pleases  and  she  must  seem  to 
hear  only  so  much.  1  did  no  better  and  no  worse 
than  most  women  of  my  years  would  have  done.  At 
last  the  silence  (which  did  not  seem  a  silence  to  me, 
it  was  so  full  of  new  and  conflicting  thoughts,)  was 
broken  by  the  recommencement  of  the  music  in  the 
other  room.  He  had  taken  a  book  in  his  hands  and 
was  turning  over  its  pages  restlessly. 

"  Why  have  you  not  danced  ?"  he  said  at  last,  in  a 
voice  that  still  showed  agitation. 

"  I  have  not  danced  because  I  can't,  because  I  never 
have  been  taught." 

"  You  ?  not  taught  ?  it  seems  incredible.  But  let  me 
teach  you.  Will  you  \  Teach  you  !  you  would  dance 
by  intention.  And  would  love  it — madly — as  I  did 
years  ago.  Come  with  me,  will  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said,  half  frightened,  shrinking  back, 
"  I  am  not  going  to  dance — ever." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  as  well,'"'  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
meeting  my  eye  for  an  instant,  and  telling  me  by  that 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  109 

sudden  brilliant  gleam  from  his,  that  then  he  would 
be  spared  the  pain  of  ever  seeing  me  dancing  with 
another. 

"  But  let  me  teach  you  something,"  he  said  after  a 
moment.  "Let  me  teach  you  German — will  you?" 
He  sank  down  in  a  chair  by  the  table,  and  leaning  for 
ward,  repeated  his  question  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should  like  it  so  much — if — ." 

"If — if  what?  If  it  could  be  arranged  without 
frightening  and  embarrassing  you,  you  mean  ?" 

"Yes." 

"I  wonder  if  you  are  not  more  afraid  of  being 
frightened  and  embarrassed  than  of  any  other  earthly 
trial.  There  are  worse  things  that  come  to  us,  Miss 
d'Estree.  But  I  will  arrange  about  the  German, 
and  you  need  have  no  terror.  How  will  I  arrange  ? 
~No  matter — when  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  asks  you  to 
join  a  class  in  German,  you  will  join  it,  will  you 
not?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  You  promise  ?" 

"  Oh,  anything." 

"  Anything  ?  take  care.  I  may  fill  up  a  check  for 
thousands,  if  you  give  a  blank." 

"  I  didn't  give  a  blank ;  anything  about  German's 
what  I  meant." 


110  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Ah,  that's  safer,  but  not  half  so  generous.     And 

yet  you're  one  who  might  be  generous,  I  think." 
"  Bat  tell  me  about  the  German  class." 
"  I've  nothing  to  tell  you  about  it,"  he  answered, 

"  only  that  you've  promised  to  learn." 
.  "  But  where  are  -we  to  say  our  lessons,  and  what 

books  are  we  to  study  ?" 

"  Would  you  like  to  say  a  lesson  now  and  get  one 

step  in  advance  of  all  the  others  ?" 

"  O  yes  !  I  shall  need  at  least  as  much  grace  as  that." 
"Then  say  this  after  me:    'fcfo  Will  g^lletf  kWM, 

W  ^  \t  micfe  lefcwtt/  Begin.  <  f  rti  will  grtletf  Itmn'—  " 
"  l  i*fo  Will  <&\lt  #  lemw'—  but  what  does  it  mean  ?" 
"  Oh,  that  is  not  important.   Learn  it  first.  Can  you 

not  trust  me  ?    '  gdfc  will  &llt$  letwu,  w»^  ^ie  widfc 


Will  &llt$  l^wett'—  ah,  you  look  as  if  my 
pronunciation  were  not  good." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  that  ;  you  pronounce  very 
well.  <  !*fc  will  gtlte*  Itwtn—  '  " 

"  Irte  will  gilleis!  Itwm,  wa^i  ^i^  widt  ktow  :—  there 
now,  tell  me  what  it  means." 

a  Not  until  you  learn  it  ;  encore  unefois" 

I  said  it  after  him  again  and  again,  but  when  I 
attempted  it  alone,  I  made  invariably  some  error. 

"  Let  me  write  it  for  you,"  he  said,  and  pulling  a 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  HI 

book  from  his  pocket,  tore  out  a  leaf  and  wrote  the 
sentence  on  it.  "  There — keep  the  paper  and  study 
it,  and  say  it  to  me  in  the  morning." 

I  have  the  paper  still ;  long  years  have  passed  :  it 
is  only  a  crumpled  little  yellow  fragment ;  but  the 
world  would  be  poor.er  and  emptier  to  me  if  it  were 
destroyed. 

I  had  quite  mastered  the  sentence,  saying  it  after 
him  word  for  word,  and  held  the  slip  of  paper  in  my 
hand,  when  I  heard  steps  in  the  hall.  I  knew 
Richard's  step  very  well,  and  gave  a  little  start.  Mr. 
Langenau  frowned,  and  his  manner  changed,  as  I 
half  rqse  from  my  seat,  and  as  quickly  sank  back  in  it 
again. 

"  Is  it  that  you  lack  courage  ?"  he  said,  looking  at 
me  keenly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  lack,"  I  cried,  bending  down 
my  head  to  hide  my  flushed  face ;  "  but  I  hate  to  be 
scolded  and  have  scenes." 

"  But  who  has  a  right  to  scold  you  and  to  make  a 
scene  P 

"  Nobody :  only  everybody  does  it  all  the 
same." 

"Everybody,  I  suppose,  means  Mr.  Richard  Yander- 
marck,  who  is  frowning  at  you  this  moment  from  the 
hall." 


112  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  And  it  means  you — who  are  frowning  at  me  this 
moment  from  your  seat." 

All  this  time  Richard  had  been  standing  in  the 
hall ;  but  now  he  walked  slowly  away.  I  felt  sure  he 
had  given  me  up.  The  people  began  to  come  out  of 
the  parlor,  and  I  felt  ready  to  cry  with  vexation, 
when  I  thought  that  they  would  again  be  talking 
about  me.  It  was  true,  I  am  afraid,  that  I  lacked 
courage. 

"  You  want  me  to  go  away  ?"  he  said,  fixing  his 
eyes  intently  on  me. 

"  O  yes,  if  you  only  would,"  I  said  naively. 

He  looked  so  white  and  angry  when  he  rose,  that  I 
sprang  up  and  put  out  my  hand  to  stop  him,  and  said 
hurriedly,  "  I  only  meant — that  is — I  should  think  you 
would  understand  without  my  telling  you.  A  woman 
cannot  bear  to  have  people  talk  about  her,  and  know 
who  she  likes  and  who  she  doesn't.  It  kills  me  to  have 
people  talk  about  me.  I'm  not  used  to  society — I 
don't  know  what  is  right — but  I  don't  think — I  am 
afraid — I  ought  not  to  have  stayed  in  here  and  talked 
to  you  away  from  all  the  others.  It's  that  that  makes 
me  so  uncomfortable.  That,  and  Richard  too.  For 
I  know  he  doesn't  like  to  have  me  pleased  with  any 
one.  Do  not  go  away  angry  with  me.  I  don't  see 
why  you  do  not  understand." 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK  H3 

My  incoherent  little  speech  had  brought  him  to  his 
senses. 

"  I  am  not  going  away  angry,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  I  will  promise  not  to  speak  to  you  again  to 
night.  Only  remember  that  I  have  feelings  as  well 
as  Mr.  Richard  Yandermarck." 

In  a  moment  more  I  was  alone.  Richard  did  not 
come  near  me,  nor  seem  to  notice  me,  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall.  Presently  Mr.  Eugene  Whitney 
came  in,  and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  him. 

"  Won't  you  take  me  to  walk  on  the  piazza  ?"  I 
asked,  for  everybody  else  was  walking  there.  He  was 
only  too  happy ;  and  so  the  evening  ended  common 
place  enough. 


CHAPTER  X. 

EVEBY   DAY    FKOM    SIX   TO    SEVEN. 

She  wanted  years  to  understand 
The  grief  that  he  did  feel. 


Love  is  not  love 

That  alters  where  it  alteration  finds. 

THIS  was  how  the  German  class  was  formed. 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  leaving  the  dinner-table, 
Mr.  Langenau  paused  a  few  moments  by  Sophie,  in 
the  hall,  and  talked  with  her  about  the  boys. 

"  Charley  gets  on  very  well  with  his  German,"  he 
observed,  "but  Benny  doesn't  make  much  progress. 
He  is  too  young  to  study  much,  and  acquires  chiefly  by 
the  ear.  If  you  only  had  a  German  maid,  or  if  you 
could  speak  with  him  yourself,  he  would  make  much 
better  progress." 

"  Yes,  I  wish  I  had  more  knowledge  of  the  lan 
guage,"  she  replied ;  "  I  read  it  very  easily,  but  cannot 
speak  with  any  fluency." 

"Why  will  you  never  speak  it  with  me?"  he  said. 
"  And  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
read  with  you  an  hour  a  day.  I  have  much  leisure, 
and  it  would  be  no  task  to  me." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  115 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,  and  you  are  very  kind. 
But  it  is  so  hard  to  find  an  hour  unoccupied,  particu 
larly  with  so  many  people  in  the  house,  whom  I 
ought  to  entertain." 

"  That  is  very  true,  unless  you  can  make  it  a  source 
of  entertainment  to  them.  Miss  Benson — is  she  not 
a  German  scholar  ?  She  might  like  to  join  you." 

Then,  I  think,  the  clever  Sophie's  mind  was  illu 
minated,  and  the  tutor's  little  scheme  was  revealed  to 
her  clear  eye  ;  she  embraced  it  with  effusion.  "  An 
admirable  idea,"  she  said,  "  and  the  others,  too,  per 
haps,  would  join  us  if  you  would  not  mind.  It  would 
be  one  hour  a  day  at  least  secure  from  ennui :  I  shall 
have  great  cause  to  thank  you,  if  we  can  arrange  it. 
For  these  girls  get  so  tired  of  doing  nothing;  rny 
mind  is  always  on  the  strain  to  think  of  an  amuse 
ment.  Charlotte !  Come  here,  I  want  to  ask  you 
something." 

Charlotte  Benson  came,  and  with  her  came  Hen 
rietta.  I  was  sitting  on  the  sofa  between  the  parlor- 
doors,  and  could  not  help  hearing  the  whole  conver 
sation,  as  they  were  standing  immediately  before 
me. 

"  Mr.  Langenau  proposes  to  us  to  read  an  hour  a 
day  with  him  in  German.  What  do  you  think 
about  it?" 


116  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

"  Charming,"  said  Charlotte  with  enthusiasm.  "  I 
cannot  think  of  anything  that  would  give  me  greater 
pleasure.  Henrietta  and  I  have  read  in  German  to 
gether  for  two  winters,  and  it  will  be  enchanting  to 
continue  it  with  such  a  master  as  Mr.  Langenau." 

Henrietta  murmured  her  satisfaction,  and  then 
Charlotte  rushed  into  plans  for  the  course,  leaving  me 
in  despair,  supposing  I  had  been  forgotten.  What 
place  I  was  to  find  in  such  advanced  society  I  could 
not  well  imagine. 

Mr.  Langenau  never  turned  his  head  in  my  direc 
tion,  and  talked  with  Miss  Benson  with  so  much 
earnestness  about  the  books  into  which  they  were  to 
plunge,  that  I  could  not  convince  myself  that  all  this 
was  undertaken  solely  that  he  might  teach  me 
German.  In  a  little  while  they  seemed  to  have 
settled  it  all  to  their  satisfaction,  and  he  had  turned 
to  go  away.  My  heart  was  in  my  throat.  Mrs.  Hol- 
lenbeck  had  not  forgotten  me.  She  said  something 
low  to  Mr.  Langenau. 

"  Ah,  true  !"  he  said.  "  But  does  she  know  any 
thing  of  German?"  Then  turning  to  me  he  said, 
with  one  of  his  dazzling  sudden  glances,  "  Miss 
d'Estree,  we  are  talking  of  making  up  a  German 
class ;  do  you  understand  the  language  ? " 

"  No,"  I  said,  meeting  his  eye  for  a  moment,  "  I 


EICHAED  VANDEEMARCK. 

have  only  taken  one  lesson  in  my  life,"  and  then 
blushed  scarlet  at  my  own  audacity. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  as  if  quite  sorry  for  the  disappoint 
ment,  "  I  wish  you  were  advanced  enough  to  join  us." 

Then  Charlotte  Benson,  quite  ignoring  the  inter 
ruption,  began  to  ask  him  about  a  book  that  she 
wanted  very  much  to  find.  Mr.  Langenau  ,had  it  in 
his  room — a  most  happy  accident,  and  there  was  a 
great  deal  said  about  it.  I  again  was  left  in  doubt  of 
my  fate.  Again  Sophie  interposed.  "  We  have  for 
gotten  Mary  Leighton,"  she  said,  gently. 

"  Does  Miss  Leighton  know  anything  of  German  ?" 

"  Not  a  thing,"  said  Henrietta. 

"  What  does  she  know  anything  of,  but  flirting  ?" 
said  Charlotte  with  asperity,  glancing  out  into  the 
grounds  where  Kilian  was  murmuring  softest  folly  to 
her  under  her  pongee  parasol. 

"Perhaps  she'd  like  to  learn,"  suggested  Sophie. 
"  She  and  Pauline  might  begin  together ;  that  is,  if 
Mr.  Langenau  would  not  think  it  too  much  trouble  to 
give  them  an  occasional  suggestion.  And  you,  Char 
lotte,  I  am  sure,  could  help  them  a  great  deal." 

Charlotte  made  no  disguise  of  her  disinclination  to 
undertake  to  help  them. 

Mr.  Langenau  expressed  his  willingness  so  unenthu 
siastically,  that  I  think  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  was  staggered. 


118  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  saw  her  glance  anxiously  at  him,  as  if  to  know  what 
really  he  might  mean.  .She  concluded  to  interpret 
according  to  the  context,  however,  and  went  on. 

"  But  it  will  be  so  much  better  for  all  to  undertake 
it,  if  one  does.  Suppose  they  try  and  see  how  it  will 
work,  either  before  or  after  our  lesson." 

"  De  tout  mon  cceur"  said  Mr.  Langenau,  as  if,  how 
ever,  his  cceur  had  very  little  interest  in  the  matter. 
,     "  Well,  about  the  hour  ?"  said  Charlotte,  the  woman 
of  business ;  "  we  haven't  settled  that  after  all  our 
talking." 

There  was  a  great  deal  more,  oh,  a  great  deal  more, 
and  then  it  was  settled  that  five  in  the  afternoon 
should  be  considered  the  German  hour — subject  to 
alteration  as  circumstances  should  arise. 

Mrs.  Hollenbeck  very  discreetly  ordered  that  a  be 
ginning  should  not  be  made  till  the  next  day  but  one. 
"The  gentlemen  will  all  be  here  to-morrow,  and  there 
may  be  something  else  going  on."  I  knew  very  well 
she  was  afraid  of  Richard,  and  thought  he  would  not 
approve  her  zeal  for  our  improvement. 

The  first  lesson  was  very  dull  work  for  me.  It  was 
agreed  that  Mary  Leighton  and  I  should  take  our  les 
son  after  the  others,  sitting  beside  them,  however,  for 
the  benefit  of  such  crumbs  of  information  as  might 
fall  to  us. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  119 

Mr.  Langenau  took  no  special  notice  of  me  then,  and 
very  little  that  was  flattering  when  Mary  Leighton 
and  I  began  our  lesson  proper.  Mrs.  Hollenbeck, 
Charlotte,  and  Henrietta  took  up  their  books  and  left, 
when  the  infant  class  was  called.  I  do  not  think  Mr. 
Langenau  took  great  pains  to  make  the  study  of  the 
German  tongue  of  interest  to  Miss  Leighton.  She 
was  unspeakably  bored,  and  never  even  learned  the 
alphabet.  She  was  very  much  unused  to  mental  ap 
plication,  undoubtedly,  and  was  annoyed  at  appearing 
dull.  There  was  but  one  door  open  to  her ;  to  vote 
German  a  bore,  and  give  up  the  class.  She  made  her 
exit  by  that  door  on  the  occasion  of  the  second  lesson, 
and  Mr.  Langenau  and  I  were  left  to  pursue  our  stud 
ies  undisturbed.  The  rendezvous  was  the  piazza  in 
fine  weather,  and  the  library  .when  it  was  damp  or 
cloudy.  The  fidelity  with  which  the  senior  Germans 
gathered  up  their  books  and  left,  when  their  hour  was 
over,  was  mainly  due  to  the  kind  thoughtfulness  of 
Mrs.  Hollenbeck,  who  was  always  prompt,  and  always 
found  some  excuse  for  carrying  away  Charlotte  and 
Henrietta  with  her  when  she  went. 

It  can  be  imagined  what  those  hours  were  to  me, 
those  soft,  golden  afternoons.  Sometimes  we  took 
our  books  and  went  out  under  the  trees  to  some  shaded 
Beats,  and  sat  there  till  the  maid  came  out  to  call  us  in  to 


120  RICHARD  VANDERMARCE. 

tea.  Happy,  happy  hours  in  dreamland !  But  what 
peril  to  me,  and  perhaps  to  him.  It  is  vain  to  go 
over  it  all :  it  is  enough  that  of  all  the  happy  days,  that 
hour  from  six  o'clock  till  tea-time  was  the  happiest :  and 
that  with  strange  smoothness,  day  after  day  passed  on 
without  bringing  interruption  to  it.  At  six  the  others 
went  to  ride  or  walk ;  I  was  never  called,  and  did  not 
even  wonder  at  it. 

All  this  time  Kichard  had  been  going  every  day  to 
town  and  coming  back  by  the  evening  train.  It  was 
pretty  tiresome  work,  and  he  looked  rather  pale  and 
worn ;  but  I  believe  he  could  not  stay  away.  I  some 
times  felt  a  little  sorry  when  I  saw  how  much  he  was 
out  of  spirits,  but  I  was  in  such  a  happy  realm  myself, 
it  did  not  depress  me  long :  in  truth,  I  forgot  it  when 
he  was  not  actually  before  me,  and  sometinies  even 
then.  "  I  do  not  think  you  are  listening  to  what  I 
say,"  he  said  to  me  one  night  as  he  sat  by  me  in  the 
parlor.  I  blushed  desperately,  and  tried  to  listen  bet 
ter.  Ah  !  how  often  it  happened  after  that.  I  blush 
again  to  think  how  much  I  pained  him,  and  how  si 
lently  he  bore  it  all. 

The  last  days  of  July  were  very  busy  ones  in  the 
Wall-street  office,  and  Richard  did  not  give  himself 
a  holiday,  till  one  Saturday,  much  to  be  remembered, 
the  very  last  day  of  the  month.  I  recall  with  peni- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  121 

tence,  the  impatient  feeling  that  I  had  when  Richard 
told  me  he  was  going  to  take  the  day  at  home.  I  felt 
intuitively  that  it  would  spoil  it  all  for  me.  After 
breakfast,  we  all  played  croquet,  and  then  I  shut  my 
self  into  my  room  with  my  German  books,  and  self 
ishly  saw  no  one  till  dinner.  At  dinner  I  was  excited 
and  half  frightened,  as  I  always  was  when  Mr.  Lange- 
nau  and  Richard  were  both  present,  and  both  watch 
ing  me ;  it  was  impossible  to  please  either. 

Something  was  said  about  the  afternoon,  and  Rich 
ard  (who  all  this  time  knew  nothing  of  the  German 
class)  said  to  me,  evidently  afraid  of  some  other  en 
gagement  being  entered  on,  "  I  hope  you  will  drive 
with  me,  Pauline,  at  five.  I  ordered  the  horses  when 
I  was  down  at  the  stables ;  I  think  the  afternoon  is 
going  to  be  fine."  It  was  rather  a  public  way  of  ask 
ing  one  out  of  so  many  to  go  and  take  a  drive ;  but  in 
truth,  Richard  was  too  honest  and  straightforward  to 
care  who  knew  what  he  was  in  pursuit  of,  and  too  sore 
at  heart  and  too  indifferent  an  actor  to  conceal  it  if  he 
had  desired.  But  the  invitation  struck  me  with  such 
consternation.  At  five  o'clock !  The  flower  and  con 
summation  of  the  day!  The  hour  that  I  had  been 
looking  forward  to,  since  seven  the  day  before.  I 
could  not  lose  it.  I  would  not  go  to  drive.  I  hated 
Richard.  I  hated  going  to  drive.  I  grew  very  brave, 


122  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

and  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  I  could  not  go, 
when  I  caught  Sophie's  eye.  She  made  me  a  quick 
sign,  which  I  dared  not  disobey.  I  blushed  crimson, 
and  did  not  lift  my  eyes  again,  but  said  in  a  low  voice 
that  I  would  go.  Then  my  heart  seemed  to  turn  to 
lead,  and  all  the  glory  and  pleasure  of  the  day  was 
gone.  It  seemed  to  me*  of  such  vast  importance,  of 
such  endless  duration,  this  penance  that  I  was  to  un 
dergo.  O  lovers !  Foolish,  foolish  men  and  women ! 
I  was  like  a  child  balked  of  its  holiday  ;  I  wanted  to 
cry — I  longed  to  get  away  by  myself.  I  did  not  dare 
to  look  at  any  one. 

Mr.  Langenau  excused  himself,  and  left  the  table 
before  the  others  went  away.  As  we  were  leaving  the 
table,  Sophie,  passing  close  by  me,  said  quite  low,  "  I 
would  not  say  anything  about  the  German  class, 
Pauline.  And  it  was  a  great  deal  better  that  you 
should  go;  you  know  Richard  has  not  many  holi 
days." 

"  Yes,  but  you  don't  give  up  all  your  pleasures  for 
him,"  I  thought,  but  did  not  say. 

I  went  quickly  to  my  room,  and  saw  no  one  till  I 
came  down-stairs  at  five  o'clock.  I  had  on  a  veil,  for 
my  face  was  rather  flushed,  and  my  eyes  somewhat 
the  worse  for  crying.  Richard  was  waiting  for  me  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  accompanied  me  silently  to 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  123 

the  wagon,  which  stood  at  the  door.  As  we  passed 
the  parlor  I  could  see,  on  the  east  piazza,  Mr.  Langenau 
and  Charlotte  already  at  their  books.  Both  were  so 
engrossed  that  they  did  not  look  up  as  we  went 
through  the  hall.  For  that,  Richard,  poor  fellow !  had 
to  suffer.  I  was  too  unreasonable  to  comprehend  that 
Mr.  Langenau's  absorbed  manner  was  a  covering  for 
his  pique.  It  was  enough  torture  to  have  to  lose  my 
lesson;  without  seeing  him  engrossed  with  some  one 
else,  whose  fate  was  happier  than  mine.  :  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  was  fascinated  by  Charlotte  Benson.  She 
was  bright,  clever,  and  understood  him  so  well.  She 
admired  him  so  much.  .  She  was,  I  was  sure,  half  in 
love  with  him.  (The  day  before  I  had  concluded  she 
liked  Richard  very  much.)  That  was  a  very  disagree 
able  drive.  I  complained  of  the  heat.  The  sun  hurt 
my  eyes. 

"  We  can  go  back,  if  you  desire  it,"  said  Richard, 
with  a  shade  of  sternness  in  his  voice,  stopping  the 
horses  suddenly,  after  two  miles  of  what  would  have 
been  ill-temper  if  we  had  been  married,  but  was  now 
perhaps  only  petulance. 

"  I  don't  desire  it,"  I  said,  quite  frightened,  "  but  I 
do  wish  we  could  go  a  little  faster  till  we  get  into  the 
shade." 

After  that,  there  was  naturally  very  little  pleasure 


124:  RICHARD  VANDERHARCK 

in  conversation.  I  felt  angry  with  Richard  and 
ashamed  of  myself.  For  him,  I  am  afraid  his  feelings 
were  very  bitter,  and  his  silence  the  cover  of  a  sore 
heart.  We  had  started  to  take  a  certain  drive ;  we 
both  wished  it  over,  I  suppose,  but  both  lacked  cour 
age  to  shorten  it,  or  go  home  before  we  were  expected. 
There  was  a  brilliant  sunset,  but  I  am  sure  we  did  not 
see  it :  then  the  clouds  gathered  and  the  twilight  came 
on,  and  we  were  nearly  home. 

"Pauline,"  said  Richard,  hoarsely,  not  looking  at 
me,  and  insensibly  slackening  the  hold  he  had  upon 
the  reins ;  "  will  you  let  me  say  something  to  you  ? 
I  want  to  give  you  some  advice,  if  you  will  listen  to 
me." 

UI  don't  want  anybody  to  advise  me,"  I  said  in 
alarm,  "  and  I  don't  know  what  right  you  have  to  ex 
pect  me  to  listen  to  you,  Richard,  unless  it  is  that  I 
am  your  guest ;  and  I  shouldn't  think  that  was  any 
reason  why  I  siiould  be  made  to  listen  to  what  isn't 
pleasant  to  me." 

The  horses  started  forward,  from  the  sudden 
emphasis  of  Richard's  pull  upon  the  reins ;  and  that 
was  all  the  answer  that  I  had  to  my  most  unjustifiable 
words.  E"ot  a  syllable  was  spoken  after  that ;  and  in 
a  few  moments  we  were  at  the  house.  Richard 
silently  handed  me  out ;  if  I  had  been  thinking  about 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK.  125 

him  I  should  have  been  frightened  at  the  expression 
of  his  face,  but  I  was  not :  I  was  only  thinking — that 
we  were  at  home,  and  that  I  was  going  to  have  the 
happiness  of  meeting  Mr.  Langenau. 


CHAPTER  XL 


A  nature  half  transformed,  with  qualities 
That  oft  betrayed  each  other,  elements 
Not  blent,  but  struggling,  breeding  strange  effects 
Passing  the  reckoning  of  his  friends  or  foes. 

George  Eliot. 

High  minds  of  native  pride  and  force 
Most  deeply  feel  thy  pangs,  remorse  1 
Fear  for  their  scourge,  mean  villains  have, 
Thou  art  the  torturer  of  the  brave. 

Scott. 

THIS  was  what  Sophie  had  done :  she  had  invoked 
forces  that  she  could  not  control,  and  she  felt,  as 
people  are  apt  to  feel  when  they  watch  their  monster 
growing  into  strength,  a  little  frightened  and  a  little 
sorry.  !No  doubt  it  had  seemed  to  her  a  very  small 
thing,  to  favor  the  folly  of  a  girl  of  seventeen,  fascinat 
ed  by  the  voice  and  manner  of  a  nameless  stranger  ;  it 
was  a  folly  most  manifest,  but  she  had  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  and  was  not  responsible ;  a  very  small  thing  to 
allow,  and  to  encourage  what,  doubtless,  she  flattered 
herself,  her  discouragement  could  not  have  subdued. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

It  was  very  natural  that  she  should  not  wish  Richard 
to  marry  any  one  ;  she  was  not  more  selfish  than  most 
sisters  are.  Most  sisters  do  not  like  to  give  their 
brothers  up.  She  would  have  to  give  up  her  home 
(one  of  her  homes,  that  is,)  as  well.  She  did  not 
think  Richard's  choice  a  wise  one :  she  was  not  sub- 
'  ject  to  the  fascination  of  outline  and  coloring  that  had 
subjugated  him,  and  she  felt  sincerely  that  she  was 
the  best  judge.  If  Richard  must  marry  (though  in 
thinking  of  her  own  married  life,  she  could  not  help 
wondering  why  he  must),  let  him  marry  a  woman  who 
had  fortune,  or  position,  or  talent.  Of  course  there 
was  a  chance  that  this  one  might  have  money,  but 
that  would  be  according  to  the  caprice  of  a  selfish  old 
man,  who  had  never  been  known  to  show  any  affec 
tion  for  her. 

But  money  was  not  what  Richard  wanted:  his 
sister  knew  much  better  what  Richard  wanted,  than 
he  knew  himself.  He  wanted  a  clever  woman,  a  wo 
man  who  would  keep  him  before  the  world  and  rouse 
him  into  a  little  ambition  about  what  people  thought 
of  him.  Sophie  was  disappointed  and  a  little  fright 
ened  when  she  found  that  Richard  did  not  give  up 
the  outline  and  coloring  pleasantly.  She  had  thought 
he  would  be  disillusionized,  when  he  found  he  was 
thrown  over  for  a  German  tutor,  who  could  sing. 


128  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

She  had  not  counted  upon  seeing  him  look  ill  and 
worn,  and  finding  him  stern  and  silent  to  her ;  to  her, 
of  whom  he  had  always  been  so  fond.  She  found  he 
was  taking  the  -matter  very  seriously,  and  she  almost 
wished  that  she  had  not  meddled  with  the  matter. 

And  this  German  tutor — who  could  sing — well,  it 
was  strange,  but  he  was  the  worst  feature  of  her 
Frankenstein,  and  the  one  at  which  she  felt  most  sorry 
and  most  frightened.  Richard  was  very  bad,  to  be 
sure,  but  he  would  no  doubt  get  over  it :  and  if  it  all 
came  out  well,  she  would  be  the  gainer.  As  to  "  this 
girl  for  whom  his  heart  was  sick,"  she  had  no  manner 
of  patience  with  her  or  pity  for  her. 

"  She  must  suffer :  so  do  all ;"  she  would  undoubt 
edly  have  a  hard  future,  no  matter  to  which  of  these 
men  who  were  so  absurd  about  her,  Fate  finally  ac 
corded  her:  hard,  if  she  married  Richard  without 
loving  him  (nobody  knew  better  than  Sophie  how  hard 
that  sort  of  marriage  was) ;  hard,  if  she  married  the 
German,  to  suffer  a  lifetime  of  poverty  and  ill-temper 
and  jealous  fury.  But  about  all  that,  Sophie  did  not 
care  a  straw.  She  knew  how  much  women  could 
live  through,  and  it  seemed  to  be  their  business  to  be 
wretched. 

But  this  man !  And  she  could  not  gain  anything 
by  what  he  suffered,  with  his  dangerous  nature,  his 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  129 

ungovernable  jealousy,  his  possibly  involved  and  un 
known  antecedents ;  what  was  to  become  of  him,  in 
case  he  could  not  have  this  girl  of  whom  six  weeks 
ago  he  had  not  heard  ?  A  pretty  candidate  to  present 
to  "  rnon  oncle"  of  the  Wall-street  office,  for  the  hand 
of  the  young  lady  trusted  to  their  hospitality — a  very 
pretty  candidate — a  German  tutor — who  could  sing. 
If  he  took  her,  it  was  to  be  feared  he  would  have  to 
take  her  without  more  dowry  than  some  very  heavy 
imprecations.  • .  But  could  he  take  her,  even  thus  ? 
Sophie  had  some  very  strange  misgivings.  This  man 
was  desperately  unhappy:  was  suffering  frightfully: 
it  made  her  heart  ache  to  see  the  haggard  lines  deep 
ening  on  his  face,  to  see  his  colorless  lips  and  restless 
eyes.  She  was  sorry  for  him,  as  a  woman  is  apt  to  be 
sorry  for  a  fascinating  man.  And  then  she  was 
frightened,  for  he  was  "no  carpet  knight  so  trim,"  to 
whom  cognac,  and  cigars,  and  time  would  be  a  balm : 
this  man  was  essentially  dramatic,  a  dangerous  char 
acter,  an  article  with  which  she  was  unfamiliar.  He 
was  frantic  about  this  silly  girl :  that  was  plain  to  see. 
Why  then  was  he  so  wretched,  seeing  she  was  as  irra 
tionally  in  love  with  him  ? 

•"  If  it  only  comes  out  right,"  she  sighed  distrustfully 
many  times  a  day.  She  resolved  never  to  interfere 
with  anything  again,  but  it  came  rather  late,  seeing 


130  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

she  probably  had  done  the  greatest  mischief  that  she 
ever  would  be  permitted  to  have  a  hand  'in  while  she 
lived.  She  made  up  her  mind  not  to  think  anything 
about  it,  but,  unfortunately  for  that  plan,  she  could 
not  get  out  of  sight  of  her  work.  If  she  had  been  a 
man,  she  would  probably  have  gone  to  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  But  being  a  woman  she  had  to  stay  at  home, 
and  sit  down  among  the  tangled  skeins  which  she  had 
not  skill  to  straighten. 

"If  it  only  comes  out  right,"  she  sighed  again, 
the  evening  of  that  most  uncomfortable  drive,  "  If  it 
only  comes  out  right."  But  it  did  not  look  much 
like  it. 

I  had  gone  directly  in  to  tea,  and  so  had  Richard. 
Richard's  face  silenced  and  depressed  everybody  at  the 
table ;  and  Mr.  Langenau  did  not  come. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  terrible  shower,"  said  some 
one,  and  before  the  sentence  was  ended,  there  was  a 
vivid  flash  of  lightning  that  made  the  candles 
pale. 

"  How  rapidly  it  has  come  up,"  said  Sophie.  "  Was 
the  sky  black  when  you  came  in,  Richard  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Richard,  and  nobody  doubted 
that  he  told  the  truth. 

"  It  had  begun  to  darken  before  we  came  up  from 
the  river,"  said  Charlotte  Benson.  "  The  clouds  were 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  131 

rising  rapidly  as  we  came  in.  It  will  be  a  fearful 
tempest." 

"  Are  the  windows  all  shut  3"  said  Sophie  to  the 
servant. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  exclaimed  Kilian.  "  The  heat 
is  horrid." 

"  Yes,  it  is  suffocating,"  said  Richard,  getting  up. 

As  he  went  out  of  the  dining-room,  some  one,  I 
think  Henrietta,  said,  "  Well,  I  hope  Mr.  Langenau 
will  get  in  safely ;  he  was  out  on  the  river  when  we 
were  on  the  hill." 

The  storm  was  so  sudden  and  so  furious  that  every 
body  was  concerned  at  hearing  this ;  even  Kilian 
made  some  exclamation  of  alarm. 

"  Does  he  know  anything  about  a  boat  ?"  he  asked 
of  Richard,  who  had  paused  in  the  doorway,  hearing 
what  was  said. 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  said  Richard,  shortly,  but  he  did 
not  go  away. 

"  It  isn't  the  sail-boat  that  he  has,  of  course,"  said 
Kilian,  thoughtfully.  "  He  always  goes  out  to  row, 
I  believe." 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Charlotte  Benson,  "  he's  in  the 
sail-boat ;  don't  you  remember  saying,  Henrietta,  how 
bright  the  gleam  of  the  sunset  was  on  the  sail,  and  all 
the  water  was  so  dark  ?" 


132  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

Kilian  came  to  his  feet  very  suddenly  at  these 
words. 

"That's  a  bad  business,"  he  said  quickly  to  his 
brother.  "  I've  no  idea  he  can  manage  her  in  such  a 
squall." 

Sophie  gave  a  little  scream,  and  Charlotte  and 
Henrietta  both  grew  very  pale,  as  a  frightful  shock  of 
thunder  followed.  The  wind  was  furious,  and  the 
unfastened  shutters  in  various  parts  of  the  house 
sounded  like  so  many  reports  of  pistols,  and  in  an 
instant  the  whole  force  of  the  rain  fell  suddenly  and  at 
once  upon  the  windows.  Somewhere  some  glass  was 
shattered,  and  all  these  sounds  added  to  the  sense  of 
danger,  and  the  darkness  was  so  great  and  so  sudden, 
that  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  half  an  hour  before, 
the  sunset  could  have  whitened  the  sails  of  a  boat 
upon  the  river. 

u  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late  to  do  much  nowr,"  said  Kil 
ian,  stopping  in  front  of  his  brother  in  the  doorway. 

"  What's  the  use  of  talking  in  that  way,"  returned 
Richard  in  a  hoarse,  low  voice.  "  If  you  hav'nt  more 
sense  than  to  talk  so  before  women,  you  can  stay  at 
home  with  them,"  he  continued,  striding  across  the 
hall,  and  picking  up  a  lantern  that  stood  in  a  corner 
near  the  door.  Charlotte  Benson  caught  up  one  of 
the  candles  from  the  table,  and  ran  to  him  and  lit  the 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  133 

lamp  within  the  lantern.  Sophie  threw  a  cloak  over 
Kilian's  shoulders,  and  Henrietta  flew  to  carry  a  mes 
sage  to  the  kitchen.  Richard  pulled  a  bell  that  was 
a  signal  to  the  stable  (the  stable  was  very  near  the 
house),  and  in  almost  a  moment's  time  two  men,  be 
side  Kilian,  were  following  him  out  into  the  tempest. 
We  saw  their  lanterns  flicker  for  an  instant,  and  then 
they  were  swallowed  up  in  the  darkness.  The  fury  of 
the  storm  increased  every  moment.  The  flashes  of 
lightning  were  but  a  few  seconds  apart,  and  the  roll 
of  thunder  was  incessant.  Every  few  moments,  above 
this  continued  roar,  would  come  an  appalling  crash 
which  sounded  just  above  our  heads.  The  children 
were  screaming  with  fear,  the  servants  had  come  into 
the  hall  and  seemed  in  a  helpless  sort  of  panic.  Sophie 
was  very  pale  and  Mary  Leighton  clung  hysterically 
to  her.  Charlotte  Benson  was  the  only  one  who 
seemed  to  be  self-possessed  enough  to  have  done  any 
thing,  if  there  had  been  anything  to  do.  But  there 
was  not.  All  we  could  do  was  to  try  to  behave  our 
selves  with  fortitude  in  view  of  the  personal  danger, 
and  with  composure  in  view  of  that  of  others. 
Presently  there  came  a  lull  in  the  tempest,  and  we 
began  to  breathe  freer;  some  one  went  to  the  door 
and  opened  it.  A  gust  of  cold  wind  swept  through 
the  hall  and  put  out  the  lamp,  at  which  the  chil- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 


dren  and  Mary  Leighton  renewed  their  cries  of 
fright. 

The  respite  in  the  tempest  was  but  temporary  ;  be 
fore  the  lamp  was  relit  and  order  restored,  the  storm 
had  burst  a^ain  upon  us.  This  was,  if  anything,  fiercer, 
but  shorter  lived.  After  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes' 
rage,  it  subsided  almost-  utterly,  and  we  could  hear  it 
taking  itself  off  across  the  heavens.  I  suppose  the 
whole  storm,  from  its  beginning  to  its  end,  had  not 
occupied  more  than  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  but  it 
had  seemed  much  longer. 

We  were  very  glad  to  open  the  door  and  let  the 
cool,  damp  air  into  the  hall.  The  children  were  taken 
up-stairs,  consoled  with  the  promise  that  word  should 
be  sent  to  them  when  their  uncles  should  return. 
The  servants  went  feebly  off  to  their  domain  ;  one 
was  sent  to  sweep  the  piazza,  for  the  rain  had  beaten 
in  such  torrents  upon  it  that  it  was  impossible  to  walk 
there,  till  it  should  be  brushed  away.  Wrapped  in 
their  shawls,  Henrietta  and  Charlotte  Benson  walked 
up  and  down  the  space  that  the  servant  swept,  and 
watched  and  listened  for  a  long  half-hour.  I  took  a 
cloak  from  the  rack  and,  leaning  against  the  door-post, 
stood  and  listened  silently. 

From  the  direction  of  the  river  there  was  nothing 
to  b&AeonL  There  was  still  distant  thunder,  but 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  135 

that  was  the  only  sound,  that  and  the  dripping  of  the 
rain  off  the  leaves  of  the  drenched  trees.  The  mind 
was  almost  silent,  and  in  the  spaces  of  the  broken 
clouds  there  were  occasional  faint  stars.  Ajfcie, 
young  tree,  uprooted  by  the  tempest,  lay  across  the 
carriage-way  before  the  house,  its  topmost  branches 
resting  on  the  steps  of  the  piazza :  the  grass  was 
strewed  with  leaves  like  autumn,  and  the  paths  were 
simply  pools  of  water.  Sophie,  more  than  once,  came 
to  the  door,  and  begged  us  to  come  in,  for  fear  of  the 
dampness  and  the  cold,  but  no  one  heeded  her  sug 
gestion.  Even  she  herself  came  out  very  often,  and 
looked  and  listened  anxiously.  Finally  my  ear  caught 
a  sound:  I  ran  down  the  steps,  and  bent  forward 
eagerly.  There  was  some  one  coming  along  the 
garden-path  that  led  up  from  the  river.  I  could  hear 
the  water  plashing  as  he  walked,  and  he  was  coming 
rapidly.  In  a  moment  the  others  heard  it  too,  and 
starting  to  the  steps,  stood  still,  and  waited  breath 
lessly.  He  had  no  lantern,  for  we  could  have  seen 
that ;  he  was  almost  at  the  steps  before  I  could  re 
cognize  him.  It  was  Richard.  I  gave  a  smothered 
cry,  and  springing  forward,  held  out  my  hands  to 
stop  him. 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened."     He  put  aside  my 
hands,  and  went  past  me  without  a  second  look. 


136  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  There  has  nothing  happened,  but  what  he  can  tell 
you  when  he  conies,"  he  said,  as  he  strode  past  me  up 
the  steps,  and  on  into  the  house.  Then  he  was  alive 
to  tell  me :  the  reaction  was  a  little  too  strong  for  me, 
and  I  sat  down  on  the  steps  to  try  and  recover  myself, 
for  I  was  ill  and  giddy. 

In  a  few  moments  more,  more  steps  sounded  in  the 
distance,  this  time  slowly,  several  persons  coming  to 
gether.  I  started  and  ran  up  the  steps,  I  don't  ex 
actly  know  why,  and  stood  behind  the  others,  who 
were  crowding  down,  servants  and  all,  to  hear  what 
was  the  news.  Kilian  came  first,  very  drenched,  and 
spattered,  and  subdued  looking,  then  Mr.  Langenau, 
leaning  upon  one  of  the  men,  very  pale,  but  making 
an  attempt  to  smile  and  speak  reassuringly  to  Sophie, 
who  met  him  with  looks  of  great  alarm.  It  evidently 
gave  him  dreadful  pain,j:o  move,  and  when  he  reached 
the  house  he  was  quite  fa-int.  Charlotte  Benson 
placed  a  chair,  into  which  they  supported  him. 

"  Run,  Pauline,  and  get  some  brandy,"  said  Sophie, 
putting  a  bunch  of  keys  into  my  hand  without  look 
ing  at  me. 

When  I  came  back  with  the  glass  of  brandy,  he 
was  conscious  again,  and  looked  at  me  and  took  the 
glass  from  my  hand.  The  other  man  had  been  sent 
for  the  doctor  from  the  village,  who  was  expected 


EICHAED  VANDERMARCK.  137 

every  moment,  and  Mr.  Langenau,  who  was  now  re 
vived  by  stimulants,  was  quite  reassuring,  and  at 
tempted  to  laugh  at  us  for  being  so  much  frightened. 
Then  the  young  ladies'  curiosity  got  the  better  of 
their  terror,  and  they  clamored  for  the  history  of  the 
past  two  hours.  -  This  history  was  given  them  prin 
cipally  by  Kalian.  I  cannot  repeat  it  satisfactorily,  for 
the  reason  that  I  don't  know  anything  about  jibs,  and 
bowsprits,  and  masts,  and  centre-boards,  and  I  did  not 
understand  it  at  the  time ;  but  I  received  enough  out 
of  the  mass  of  evidence  presented  in  that  language, 
to  be  sure  that  there  had  been  considerable  danger, 
and  that  everybody  had  behaved  well.  In  fact, 
Kilian's  changed  manner  toward  the  tutor  of  itself 
was  quite  enough  to  show  that  he  had  behaved  unex 
pectedly  well. 

The  unvarnished  and  unbowspritted  and  unjib- 
boorned  tale  was  pretty  much  as  follows  :  Mr.  Langenau 
had  found  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  when  the 
storm  came  on.  I  am  afraid  he  could  not  have  been 
thinking  very  much  about  the  clouds,  not  to  have  no 
ticed  that  a  storm  was  rising  ;  though  every  one  agreed 
that  they  had  never  known  anything  like  the  rapidity 
of  its  coining  up.  Before  he  knew  what  he  was  about, 
a  squall  struck  him,  and  he  had  great  difficulty  to 
right  the  boat.  (Then  followed  a  good  deal  about 


138  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

luffing  and  tacking  and  keeping  her  taut  to  wind 
ward  ;  that  is,  I  think  that  was  where  he  wanted  to 
keep  her.)  But  whatever  it  was,  he  didn't  succeed  in 
doing  it,  and  Kilian  vouchsafed  to  say  nobody  could 
have  done  it.  Then  something  split :  I  really  cannot 
say  whether  it  was  the  mast,  or  the  bowsprit,  or  the 
centre-board,  but  whatever  it  was,  it  hurt  Mr.  Lange- 
nau  so  much  that  for  a  moment  he  was  stunned.  And 
then  Kilian  cannot  see  why  he  wasn't  drowned. 
When  he  came  to  himself  he  was  still  holding  the  rud 
der  in  his  hand. 

The  other  arm  was  useless  from  the  falling  of — this 
thing  that  split — upon  it.  And  so  the  boat  was 
floundering  about  in  the  gale  till  it  got  righted,  and 
it  was  Mr.  Langenau's  presence  of  mind  that  saved 
him  and  the  boat,  for  he  never  let  go  the  rudder,  and 
controlled  her  as  far  as  he  could,  though  he  did  not 
know  where  he  was  going,  the  blackness  was  so  great, 
and  the  flashes  did  not  show  him  the  shore ;  and  he 
was  like  one  placed  in  the  midst  of  a  frightful  sea 
wakened  out  of  a  dream,  owing  to  the  blow  and  the 
unconsciousness  which  followed. 

Then  Richard  came  upon  the  stage  as  hero ;  he  and 
one  of  the  men  had  gone  out  in  the  only  boat  at  hand, 
a  very  small  one,  toward  the  speck,  which,  by  the 
flashes  of  lightning,  he  saw  out  upon  the  river.  It  was 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  139 

almost  impossible  to  overhaul  her,  and  it  could  not 
have  been  done  at  the  rate  she  was  going,  of  course ; 
but  then  occurred  that  accident  which  rendered  Mr. 
Langenau  unconscious,  and  which  brought  things  to  a 
standstill  for  a  moment.  Kilian  said  we  did  not  know 
anything  about  the  storm  up  here  at  the  house ;  that 
more  than  one  tree  had  been  struck  within  a  few  feet 
of  him  on  the  shore.  The  river  was  surging ;  the  wind 
was  furious ;  no  one  could  imagine  what  it  was  who 
had  not  witnessed  it,  and  he,  for  his  part,  never  ex 
pected  to  see  Richard  come  back  to  land.  But  Rich 
ard  did  come  back,  and  brought  back  the  disabled 
sail-boat  and  the  injured  man.  That  was  the  end  of 
the  story ;  which  thrilled  us  all  very  much,  as  we  knew 
the  heroes,  and  had  one  of  them  before  us,  ghastly 
pale  but  uncomplaining. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  doctor  never  would  come !  We 
were  women,  and  we  naturally  looked  to  the  coming 
of  the  doctor  as  the  end  of  all  the  trouble.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  the  poor  fellow  comfortable.  He 
could  not  lie  down,  he  could  not  move  without  excru 
ciating  pain,  and  very  frequently  he  grew  quite  faint. 
Charlotte  Benson  and  Sophie  administered  stimulants  ; 
endeavored  to  ease  his  position  with  pillows  and  foot 
stools  ;  and  did  all  the  nameless  soothing  acts  that 
efficient  and  good  nurses  alone  understand ;  while  I, 


140  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

paralyzed  and  mute,  stood  aside,  scarcely  able  to  bear 
the  sight  of  his  sufferings.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  don't 
think  he  cared  at  all  to  have  me  by  him.  He  was  in 
such  pain  that  he  cared  only  for  the  attendance  of 
those  who  could  alleviate  it  in  a  measure ;  and  the 
strong  firm  hand  and  the  skilled  touch  were  more  to 
him  tli an  the  presence  of  one  who  had  nothing  but 
excited  and  unavailing  sympathy  to  offer.  It  was 
rather  a  stern  fact  walking  into  my  dreamland,  this. 

By  and  bye  Kilian  went  away  to  take  off  his  wet 
clothes,  and  he  did  not  come  back  again,  but  sent 
down  a  message  to  his  sister  that  he  was  very  tired 
and  should  go  to  bed,  but  if  he  were  wanted  for  any 
thing  he  could  be  called.  This  was  not  heroic  of 
Kilian,  but,  after  the  manner  of  men,  he  was  apt  to 
keep  away  from  the  sight  of  disagreeable  things. 

After  all,  he  could  not  do  much  good,  but  it  was 
something  to  feel  there  was  a  man  to  call  upon,  besides 
Patrick,  who  was  stupid;  and  I  saw  Charlotte 
Benson's  lip  curl  when  Kilian's  message  was  brought 
down. 

Richard  was  in  his  room:  we  all  thought  he* had 
done  enough  for  one  night,  and  had  a  right  to  rest. 

At  last,  after  the  most  weary  waiting,  wheels  were 
heard,  and  the  doctor  drove  up  to  the  door.  The  ser 
vants  had  begun  to  look  very  sleepy.  Mary  Leighton 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 


had  slipped  away  to  her  room,  and  Sophie  had  told 
Henrietta  and  me  to  go,  for  we  were  really  of  no 
earthly  use.  We  did  not  take  her  advice  as  a  compli 
ment,  and  did  not  go.  Henrietta  opened  the  door  for 
the  doctor,  which  was  doing  something  though  not 
much,  as  two  of  the  maids  stood  prepared  to  do  it  if 
she  did  not. 

The  doctor  was  a  reassuring,  quiet  man,  and  became 
a  pillar  of  strength  at  once.  After  talking  a  few 
moments-  with  Mr.  Langenau,  and  pulling  and 
twisting  him  rather  ruthlessly,  he  walked  a  little  away 
with  Sophie,  and  told  her  he  wanted  him  got  at  once 
to  his  room,  and  he  should  need  the  assistance  of  one 
of  the  gentlemen.  Would  not  Patrick  do  ?  Besides 
Patrick.  Mr.  Langenau's  shoulder  was  dislocated, 
badly,  and  it  must  be  set  at  once.  It  was  a  painful 
operation  and  he  needed  help.  I  was  within  hearing 
of  this,  and  I  was  in  great  alarm.  Sophie  looked  so 
too,  and  I  don't  think  she  liked  disagreeable  things 
any  better  than  her  brother,  but  she  was  a  woman, 
and  could  not  shirk  them  as  he  could. 

"Pauline,"  she  said,  finding  me  at  her  side  as  she 
turned,  "  run  up  and  tell  Richard  that  he  must  come 
down,  quick.  Tell  him  how  it  is,  and  that  he  must 
make  haste." 

I  ran  up  the  stairs  breathlessly,  but  feeling  all  the 


142  EICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

time  that  it  was  rather  hard  that  I  must  be  sent  to 
Richard  with  this  message.  Sophie  did  not  want  to 
ask  him  to  come  down  herself,  and  she  thought  me 
the  most  likely  ambassador  to  bring  him,  but  it  was 
not  a  congenial  embassy.  Perhaps,  however,  she 
only  asked  me  because  I  happened  to  be  nearest 
her,  and  she  was  rather  upset  by  what  the  doctor 
said. 

I  knocked  at  Richard's  door. 

"Well?" 

"  Oh,  they  want  you  to  come  down -stairs  a  minute. 
There's  something  to  be  done,"  panting  and  rather 
incoherent. 

"What  is  to  be  done?" 

'  "  The  Doctor's  here,  and  he  says  he  must  have 
help." 

"  Where's  Kilian  ?" 

"  Gone  to  bed." 

Some  suppressed  ejaculation,  and  he  pushed  back 
his  chair,  and  rose,  and  came  across  the  room :  at 
least  it  sounded  so,  and  I  ran  down  the  stairs  again. 
He  followed  me  in  a  moment.  The  Doctor  came  for 
ward  and  talked  to  him  a  little  while,  and  then 
Richard  called  Patrick,  and  told  Sophie  to  see  that 
Mr.  Langenau's  room  was  ready. 

"How  can   he  get  up  two   pairs   of  stairs,"  said 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  143 

Charlotte  Benson,  "  when  he  cannot  move  an  inch 
without  such  suffering  2" 

"  That's  very  true,"  the  Doctor  said.  "  I  doubt  if 
he  could  bear  it.  You  have  no  room  below  ?" 

"  Put  a  bed  in  the  library,"  said  Charlotte  Benson, 
and  in  ten  minutes  it  was  done;  the  servants  no 
longer  sleepy  when  they  had  any  definite  order  to 
fulfill. 

"In  the  meantime,"  said  Richard  to  his  sister, 
"  send  those  two  to  bed,"  pointing  out  Henrietta  and 
me. 

"  I've  told  them  to  go,  but  they  won't,"  said  Sophie, 
somewhat  sharply. 

Henrietta  walked  off,  rather  injured,  but  I  would 
not  go. 

Mr.  Langenau  had  another  faint  attack,  and  I  was 
quite  certain  he  would  die.  Charlotte  was  making 
him  breathe  sal  volatile  and  Sophie  ran  to  rub  his 
hands.  The  Doctor  was  busy  at  the  light  about 
something. 

"  The  room  is  all  ready,"  said  the  servant. 

"  Yery  well ;  now  Mr.  Richard,  if  you  please,"  the 
Doctor  said. 

"  Pauline,"  said  Richard,  coming  to  me  as  I  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  balusters,  "You  can't  do  any  good. 
You'd  better  go  up-stairs." 


144  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Oh,  Richard,"  I  cried,  "  I  think  you're  very  cruel ; 
I  think  you  might  let  me  stay." 

I  suppose  my  wretchedness,  and  youthfulness,  and 
folly  softened  him  again,  and  he  said,  very  gently,  "I 
don't  mean  to  be  unkind,  but  it  is  best  for  you  to  go. 
-You  need  not  be  so  frightened :  there  isn't  any 
danger." 

I  moved  slowly  to  obey  him,  but  turned  back  and 
caught  his  hand  and  whispered,  "  You  won't  let  them 
hurt  him,  Richard  ?"  and  then  ran  up  the  stairs.  No 
doubt  Richard  thought  I  went  to  my  own  room ;  but 
I  spent  the  next  hour  on  the  landing-place,  looking 
down  into  the  hall. 

It  was  rather  a  serious  matter,  getting  Mr.  Lan 
genau  even  into  the  library,  and  it  was  well  they  had 
not  attempted  his  own  room.  Patrick  was  called,  and 
with  his  assistance  and  Richard's,  he  began  to  move 
across  the  hall.  But  half-way  to  the  library-door,  he 
fainted  dead  away,  and  Richard  carried  him  and  laid 
him  on  the  bed,  Patrick  being  worse  than  useless,  hav 
ing  lost  his  head,  and  the  Doctor  being  a  small  man, 
and  only  strong  in  science. 

Pretty  soon  the  library-door  closed,  and  Sophie  and 
Charlotte  were  excluded.  They  walked  about  the 
hall,  talking  in  low  tones,  and  looking  anxious. 
Later,  there  came  groaning  from  within  the  closed 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK.  145 

door,  and  Charlotte  Benson  wrung  her  hands  and 
listened.  The  groans  continued  for  a  long  while :  the 
misery  of  hearing  them  !  After  a  while  they  ceased : 
then  Richard  opened  the  door,  hastily,  it  seemed,  and 
called  "Sophie." 

Sophie  ran  forward,  and  the  door  closed  again. 
There  was  a  long  silence,  time  enough  for  those  who 
were  outside  to  imagine  all  manner  of  horrid  possibil 
ities.  Then  the  Doctor  and  Richard  came  out. 

"How  is  he,  Doctor?'7  said  Charlotte  Benson, 
bravely,  going  to  meet  them,  while  I  hung  trembling 
over  the  landing-place. 

"  Oh  better,  better,  very  comfortable,"  said  the  Doc 
tor,  in  his  calm  professional  tone. 

I  could  not  help  thinking  those  groans  had  not 
denoted  a  very  high  state  of  comfort ;  but  maybe  the 
Doctor  knew  best  how  people  with  dislocated  shoul 
ders  and  broken  ribs  are  apt  to  express  their  senti 
ments  of  satisfaction. 

I  listened  with  more  than  interest  to  their  plans  for 
the  night :  the  Doctor  was  going  away  at  once ;  two 
of  the  servants  and  Patrick  were  to  relieve  each  other 
in  sitting  by  him,  while  Richard  was  to  throw  himself 
on  the  sofa  in  the  hall,  to  be  at  hand  if  anything  were 
needed. 

"  Which  means,  that  you  are  to  be  awake  all  night," 

7 


146  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

said  Charlotte  Benson.      "  You  have  more  need  of 
rest  than  we.     Let  Sophie  and  me  take  jour  place." 

Richard  looked  gratefully  and  kindly  at  her,  but  re 
fused.  The  Doctor  assured  them  again  that  there  was 
no  reason  for  anxiety ;  that  Richard  would  probably 
be  undisturbed  all  night ;  that  he  himself  would  come 
early  in  the  morning.  Then  Richard  came  toward 
the  stairs,  and  I  escaped  to  my  own  room. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

PEJEMONITUS,    PEJEMTJNITUS. 

The  fiend  whose  lantern  lights  the  mead, 
Were  better  mate  than  I ! 

Scott. 

Fools,  when  they  cannot  see  their  way, 

At  once  grow  desperate, 

Have  no  resource — have  nothing  to  propose — 

But  fix  a  dull  eye  of  dismay 

Upon  the  final  close. 

Success  to  the  stout  heart,  say  I, 

That  sees  its  fate,  and  can  defy  1 

Faust. 

Two  weeks  later,  and  things  had  not  stood  still ; 
they  rarely  do,  when  there  is  so  much  at  hand,  and 
ripe  for  mischief;  seventeen  does  not  take  up  the 
practice  of  wisdom  voluntarily.  I  do  not  think  I  was 
very  different  from  other  girls  of  seventeen,  and  I 
cannot  blame  myself  very  much  that  I  spent  all  these 
days  in  a  dream  of  bliss  and  folly ;  how  could  it  have 
been  otherwise,  situated  exactly  as  we  were  ?  This  is 
the  way  our  days  were  passed.  Mr.  Langenau  was 
better,  but  still  not  able  to  leave  his  room.  He  was 


148  EICHAED  VANDERMARCR. 

the  hero,  as  a  matter-  of  course,  and  little  besides 
his  sufferings,  his  condition,  and  his  prospects,  was 
talked  of  at  the  table  ;  which  had  the  effect  of  making 
Kilian  stay  away  two  nights  out  of  three,  and  of  alien 
ating  Richard  altogether.  Richard  went  to  town  on 
Monday  morning  after  the  accident  occurred,  and  it 
was  now  Friday  of  the  following  week,  and  he  had 
not  come  back. 

It  was  a  little  dull  for  Mary  Leighton  and  for 
Henrietta,  perhaps ;  possibly  for  Charlotte  Benson,  but 
she  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  much  ;  and  I  had  never 
found  R —  -  so  enchanting  as  that  fortnight.  Char 
lotte  Benson  liked  to  be  Florence  Nightingale  in 
little,  it  was  very  plain  ;  and  naturally  nothing  made 
me  so  happy  as  to  be  permitted  to  minister  to  the 
wants  of  the  (it  must  be  confessed)  frequently  un 
reasonable  sufferer.  For  the  first  few  days,  while  he 
was  confined  to  his  bed,  of  course  Charlotte  and  I 
were  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with  the  sending 
of  messages,  the  arranging  of  bouquets,  the  concocting 
of  soups  and  jellies,  and  all  the  other  coddling  proces 
ses  at  our  command.  But  when  Mr.  Langenau  was 
able  to  sit  up,  Sophie  (at  the  instance  of  Charlotte 
Benson,  for  she  seemed  to  have  renounced  diplomacy 
herself,)  arranged  that  the  bed  should  be  taken  away 
during  the  daytime,  and  brought  back  again  at  night, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  14-f) 

and  that  Mr.  Langenau  should  lie  on  the  sofa 
through  the  day.  This  made  it  possible  for  us  to  be 
in  the  room,  even  without  Sophie,  though  we  began 
to  think  her  presence  necessary.  That  scruple  was 
soon  done  away  with,  for  it  laid  too  great  a  tax  on 
her,  and  restricted  our  attentions  very  much.  The 
result  was,  we  passed  nearly  the  whole  day  beside 
him ;  Mary  Leighton  and  Henrietta  very  often  of  the 
party,  and  Sophie  occasionally  looking  in  upon  us. 
Sometimes  when  Charlotte  Benson,  as  ranking  officer, 
decreed  that  the  patient  needed  rest,  we  took  our 
books  and  work  and  went  to  the  piazza,  outside  the 
window  of  his  .room. 

He  would  have  been  very  tired  of  us,  if  he  had  not 
been  very  much  in  love  with  one  of  us.  As  it  was,  it 
must  have  been  a  kind  of  fool's  paradise  in  which  he 
lived,  live  pretty  women  fluttering  about  him,  offering 
the  prettiest  homage,  and  one  of  them  the  woman  for 
whom,  wisely  or  foolishly,  rightly  or  wrongly,  he  had 
conceived  so  violent  a  passion. 

As  soon  as  he  wras  out  of  pain  and  began  to  recover 
the  tone  of  his  nerves  at  all,  I  saw  that  he  wanted  me 
beside  him  more  than  ever,  and  that  Charlotte  Benson, 
with  all  her  skill  and  cleverness,  was  as  nothing  to  him 
in  comparison.  No  doubt  he  dissembled  this  with 
care ;  and  was  very  graceful  and  very  grateful  and  in- 


150  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

finitely  interesting.  His  moods  were  very  varying, 
however ;  sometimes  he  seemed  struggling  with  the 
most  unconquerable  depression,  then  we  were  all  so 
sorry  for  him ;  sometimes  he  was  excited  and  brilliant ; 
then  we  were  all  thrilled  with  admiration.  And  not 
unfrequently  he  was  irritable  and  quite  morose  and 
sullen.  And  then  we  pitied,  and  admired,  and  feared 
him  a  lafois.  I  am  sure  no  man  more  fitted  to  com 
mand  the  love  and  admiration  of  women  ever  lived. 

Charlotte  Benson  with  great  self-devotion  had  in 
sisted  upon  teaching  the  children  for  two  hours  every 
day,  so  that  Mr.  Langenau  might  not  be  annoyed  at  the 
thought  that  they  were  losing  time,  and  that  Sophie 
might  not  be  inconvenienced.  It  was  the  least  that 
she  could  do,  she  reasoned,  after  the  many  lessons  that 
Mr.  Langenau  had  given  us,  with  so  much  kindness, 
and  without  accepting  a  return.  Henrietta  volun 
teered  for  the  service,  also,  and  from  eleven  to  one 
every  day  the  boys  were  caught  and  caged,  and  made 
to  drink  at  the  fountain  of  learning  ;  or  rather  to  ap 
proach  that  fountain,  of  which  forty  Charlottes  and 
Henriettas  could  not  have  made  them  drink. 

At  that  time  Charlotte  always  decreed  that  Mr. 
Langenau  should  lie  on  the  sofa  and  go  to  sleep.  The 
windows  were  darkened,  and  the  room  was  cleared  of 
visitors.  On  this  Friday  morning,  nearly  two  weeks 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  151 

after  the  accident,  as  I  was  following  Sophie  from  the 
room  (Charlotte  having  gone  with  Henrietta  to  cap 
ture  the  children),  Mr.  Langenau  called  after  me 
rather  imperiously,  "  Miss  d'Estree — Miss  Pauline — 

It  had  been  a  stormy  session,  and  I  turned  back 
with  misgivings.  Sophie  shrugged  her  shoulders  and 
went  away  toward  the  dining-room. 

"  What  are  you  going  away  for,  may  I  ask  ?"  he 
said,  as  I  appeared  before  him  humbly. 

"  Why,  you  know  you  ought  to  lie  down  and  to 
rest,"  I  tried  to  say  with  discretion,  but  it  was  all  one 
what  I  said :  it  would  have  irritated  him  just  the  same. 

"  I  am  rather  tired  of  this  surveillance,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  It  is  almost  time  I  should  be  permitted  to 
express  a  wish  about  the  disposition  of  myself.  A§  I 
do  not  happen  to  want  to  go  to  sleep,  I  beg  I  may  be 
allowed  the  pleasure  of  your  society  for  a  little  while." 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  give  you  much  pleasure, 
and  you  know  you  don't  feel  as  well  to-day." 

"  Again,  may  I  be  permitted  to  judge  how  I  feel 
myself?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  but — 

"  But  what,  Miss  d'Estree  ? — No  doubt  you  want 
to  go  yourself — I  am  sorry  I  thought  of  detaining  you 
(with  a  gesture  of  dismissal).  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me. 
A  sick  man  is  apt  to  be  unreasonable." 


152  RICHABD  VANDEEMABGK 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  you  know  entirely  well  I  do  not 
want  to  go.  You  are  unreasonable,  indeed,  when 
you  talk  as  you  do  now.  I  only  went  away  for  your 
benefit." 

"  Qui  tf  excuse,  s> accuse" 

"But  I  am  not  excusing  myself;  and  if  you  put  it 
so  I  will  go  away  at  once." 

"  Si  vous  voulez — " 

"  But  I  don't  '  voulez ' — Oh,  how  disagreeable  you 
can  be." 

"  You  will  stay  ?" 

"  Pauline  !"  called  Sophie  from  across  the  hall. 

"  There !"  I  exclaimed,  interpreting  it  as  the  voice 
of  conscience.  I  left  my  work-basket  and  book  upon 
the  table,  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

"  You  called  me  ?"  I  said,  following  her  into  the 
parlor,  where,  shutting  the  door,  she  motioned  me  to 
a  seat  beside  her.  She  had  a  slip  of  paper  and  an  en 
velope  in  her  hand,  and  seemed  a  little  ill  at  ease. 

"  I've  just  had  a  telegram  from  Richard,"  she  said. 
"He's  coming  home  to-night  by  the  eleven  o'clock 
train.  It's  so  odd  altogether.  I  don't  know  why  he's 
coming.  But  you  may  as  well  read  his  message  your 
self,"  she  said  with  a  forced  manner,  handing  me  the 
paper.  It  was  as  follows : 

"  Send  carnage  for  me  to  eleven-thirty  train  to- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  153 

night.  Remember  my  injunctions,  our  last  conversa 
tion,  and  your  promises." 

"  Well  ?"  I  said,  looking  ujf,  bewildered  and  not 
violently  interested,  for  I  was  secretly  listening  to  the 
quick  shutting  of  the  library-door. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  she  returned,  with  a  forced  air 
of  confidence  that  made  me  involuntarily  shrink  from 
her ;  I  think  she  even  laid  her  hand  upon  my  sleeve, 
or  made  some  gesture  of  familiarity  which  was  un 
usual — 

"  You  see,  that  last  conversation  was — about  you. 
Richard  is  annoyed  at — at  your  intimacy  with  Mr. 
Langenau.  You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do  how  he 
feels,  for  no  doubt  he's  spoken  to  you  himself." 

"  He  never  has,"  I  said,  quite  shortly. 

"  No  ?"  and  she  looked  rather  chagrined.  "  Well — 
but  at  all  events  you  know  how  he  feels.  Girls 
ar'nt  slow  generally  to  find  out  about  those  things. 
And  he  is  really  very  unhappy  about  it,  very.  I 
wish,  Pauline,  you'd  give  it  up,  child.  It's  gone 
quite  far  enough ;  now  don't  you  think  so  yourself  ? 
Mr.  Langenau  isn't  the  sort  of  man  to  be  serious 
about,  you  know.  It's  all  very  well,  just  for  a  sum 
mer's  amusement.  But,  you  know,  you  mustn't  go 
too  far.  I'm  sure,  dear,  you're  not  angry  with  me : 
now  you  understand  just  what  I  mean,  don't  you  ?" 


154  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

No:  not  angry,  certainly  not  angry.  She  went 
on,  still  with  the  impertinent  touch  upon  my  arm : 
"  Richard  made  me  promise  that  I  would  look  after 
you,  and  not  permit  things  to  go  too  far.  And  you 
see — well — I'll  tell  you  in  confidence  what  I  think 
his  coming  tp-night  means,  and  his  message  and  all. 
I  think —  that  is,  I  am  afraid — he's  found  out  something 
against  Mr.  Langenau  since  he's  been  away.  I  know 
he  never  has  felt  confidence  in  him.  But  I've  always 
thought,  perhaps  that  was  because  he  was — well — a 
little  jealous  and  suspicious.  You  know  men  are  so 
apt  to  be  suspicious;  and  I  was  sure,  when  he  went 
away  that  last  Monday  morning,  that  he  would  not 
leave  a  stone  unturned  in  finding  out  everything 
about  him.  It  is  that  that's  kept  him,  I  am  sure. 
Don't  let  that  make  you  feel  hardly  toward  Richard," 
she  went  on,  noticing  perhaps  my  look ;  "  you  know 
it's  only  natural,  and  besides,  it's  right.  How  would 
he  answer  to  your  uncle  ?" 

"  It  is  I  who  should  answer  to  my  uncle,"  I  re 
turned,  under  my  breath. 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  in  our  house,  in  our  care.  You 
know,  my  dear  child,  you  are  very  young  and  very 
inexperienced;  you  don't  know  how  very  careful 
people  have  to  be." 

"  Why  don't  you  talk  that  way  to  Charlotte  and 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  155 

Henrietta  and  Mary  Leighton  ?  Have  I  done  any 
thing  so  very  different  from  them  ?"  I  answered,  with 
a  blaze  of  spirit. 

"  No,  dear,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  only 
there  are  one  or  two  men  very  much  in  love  with 
you,  and  that  makes  everything  so  different." 

I  blushed  scarlet,  and  was  silenced  instantly,  ae  she 
intended. 

"Now,  maybe  I  am  mistaken  about  his  having 
discovered  something,"  she  went  on,  "but  I  can't 
make  anything  else  out  of  Richard's  message.  He  is 
not  one  to  send  off  such  a  despatch  without  a  reason. 
Evidently  he  is  very  uneasy ;  and  I  thought  it  was 
best  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  dear,  and  I  know 
you'll  do  me  the  justice  to  say  I  have  been,  if  Richard 
ever  says  anything  to  you  about  it.  You  mustn't 
blame  me,  you  know,  for  the  way  he  feels.  I  wish 
the  whole  thing  was  at  an  end,"  she  said,  with  the 
first  touch  of  sincerity.  "  And  now  promise  me  one 
thing,"  with  another  caressing  movement  of  the  hand, 
"  Promise  me,  you  won't  go  into  the  library  again  till 
Richard  comes,  and  we  hear  what  he  has  to  say. 
Just  for  my  sake,  you  know,  my  dear,  for  you  see  he 
would  blame  me  if  I  did  not  keep  a  strict  surveil 
lance.  You  won't  mind  doing  that,  I'm  sure,  for 
me?" 


156  RICHARD  VANDERNARCK 

"  I  shall  not  promise  anything,"  I  returned,  getting 
up,  "but  I  am  not  likely  to  go  near  the  library  after 
what  you've  said." 

"That's  a  good  child,"  she  said,  evidently  much 
relieved,  and  thinking  that  the  affair  was  very  near  its 
end.  I  opened  the  door,  and  she  added :  "  Now  go 
up-stairs,  and  rest  yourself,  for  you  look  as  if  you  had 
a  headache,  and  don't  think  of  anything  that's  dis 
agreeable."  That  was  a  good  prescription,  but  I  did 
not  take  it. 

Of  course,  I  did  not  go  nea.r  the  library ;  that  was 
understood.  After  dinner,  the  servant  brought  in  Mr, 
Langenau's  tray  untouched,  and  Charlotte  Benson 
started  up,  and  ran  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
Sophie  went  too,  looking  a  little  troubled.  I  think 
they  were  both  snubbed :  for  ten  minutes  after,  when 
I  met  Charlotte  in  the  hall,  she  had  an  unusual  flush 
upon  her  cheek,  and  Sophie  I  found  standing  at  one 
of  the  parlor-windows,  biting  her  lip,  and  tapping 
impatiently  upon  the  carpet.  Evidently  the  affair 
was  not  as  near  its  placid  end  as  she  had  hoped.  She 
started  a  little  when  she  saw  me,  and  tried  to  look 
unruffled. 

"  How  sultry  it  is  this  afternoon  !"  she  said.  "  Are 
you  going  up  to  your  room  to  take  a  rest  ?  stop  in 
my  room  on  your  way,  I  want  to  show  you  those 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  157 

embroideries  that  I  was  telling  Charlotte  Benson  of 
last  night." 

"  I  did  not  hear  you,  and  I  do  not  know  anything 
about  them,"  I  said,  feeling  not  at  ail  affectionate. 

"  No  ?  Oh,  I  forgot :  it  was  while  you  and  Hen 
rietta  were  sitting  in  the  library,  and  Charlotte  and  I 
were  walking  up  and  down  the  piazza  while  it  rained. 
Why,  they  are  some  heavenly  sets  that  I  got  this 
spring  from  Paris — Marshall  picked  them  up  one  day 
at  the  Bon  Mar  eke — and  verily  they  are  ~bon  marche. 
I  never  saw  anything  so  cheap,  and  I  was  telling 
Charlotte  that  some  of  you  might  just  as  well  have 
part  of  them,  for  L  never  could  use  the  half.  Come  up 
and  look  them  over." 

Now  I  loved  "  heavenly  sets "  as  well  as  most  wo 
men,  but  dress  wras  not  the  bait  for  me  at  that  mo 
ment.  So  I  said  my  head  ached  and  I  could  not  look 
at  them  then,  if  she'd  excuse  me ;  and  I  went  silently 
away  to  my  room,  not  caring  at  all  if  she  were  pleased 
or  not.  I  disliked  and  distrusted  her  more  and  more 
every  moment,  and  she  seemed  to  me  so  mean :  for  I 
knew  all  her  worry  came  from  the  apprehension  of 
what  she  might  have  to  fear  from  Richard,  not  the 
thought  of  the  suffering  that  he  or  that  any  one  else 
endured. 

It  was  a  long  afternoon,  but  it  reached  its  end, 


158  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

after  the  manner  of  all  afternoons  on  record,  even 
those  of  Marianna.  When  I  came  down-stairs  they 
were  all  at  tea  and  Kilian  had  arrived.  A  more  en 
livening  atmosphere  prevailed,  and  the  invalid  was  not 
discussed.  A  drive  was  being  canvassed.  There  was 
an  early  moon,  and  Kilian  proposed  driving  Tom  and 
Jerry  before  the  open  wagon,  which  would  carry  four, 
through  the  valley-road,  to  be  back  by  half-past  nine 
or  ten  o'clock. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do,"  cried  Kilian,  "  when  there 
are  five  angels,  and  I  have  only  room  for  three  ?" 

"  Why,  two  will  have  to  stay  at  home,  according  to 
my  arithmetic,"  said  Charlotte,  good-naturedly,  "  and 
I've  no  doubt  I  shall  be  remainder." 

"  If  you  stay,  I  shall  stay  with  you,"  said  Henrietta, 
dropping  the  metaphor,  for  metaphors,  even  the 
mildest,  were  beyond  her  reach  of  mind. 

Everybody  wanted  to  stay,  and  everybody  tried  to 
be  quite  firm  ;  but  as  no  one's  firmness  but  mine  was 
based  on  inclination,  the  result  was  that  Sophie  and 
I  were  "  remainder,"  and  Mary  Leighton,  Charlotte, 
and  Henrietta  drove  away  with  Kilian  quite  jauntily, 
at  half-past  seven  o'clock.  But  before  she  went,  Char 
lotte,  who  was  really  good-natured  with  all  her  sharp 
ness  and  self-will,  went  into  the  library  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Langenau,  and  to  show  she  did  not  resent  the 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  159 

noonday  slight,  whatever  that  had  been.  But  presently 
she  came  back  looking  rather  anxious,  and  said  to 
Sophie,  ignoring  me  (whom  she  always  did  ignore  if 
possible), 

"  Do  go  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  Mr.  Langenau. 
He  is  really  very  far  from  well.  His  tea  stands  there, 
and  he  hasn't  taken  anything  to  eat.  He  looks  fever 
ish  and  excited,  and  I  truly  think  he  ought  to  see  the 
Doctor.  You  know  he  promised  the  Doctor  to  stay 
in  his  room,  and  keep  still  all  the  rest  of  the  week. 
But  I  am  sure  he  means  to  come  out  to-morrow,  and 
he  even  talks  of  going  down  to  town.  It  will  kill 
him  if  he  does ;  I'm  sure  he's  doing  badly,  and  I  wish 
you'd  go  and  see  to  him." 

"  Does  he  know  Eichard  is  coming  up  to-night  ?" 
asked  Sophie,  sotto  voce,  but  with  affected  carelessness. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  oh  yes,  he  does,  I  mentioned  it  to 
him  at  dinner-time,  I  remember  now." 

"Well,  I'll  see  if  I  can  do  anything  for  him  ;  now 
go,  they're  waiting  for  you.  Have  a  pleasant  time." 

After  they  wTere  gone,  Sophie  went  into  the  library, 
but  she  did  not  stay  very  long.  She  came  and  sat 
beside  me  on  the  river- balcony,  and  talked  a  little, 
desultorily  and  absent-mindedly. 

Presently  there  was  a  call  for  "  mamma,"  a  hubbub 
and  a  hurry — soon  explained.  Charley,  who  had  been 


160  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

running  wild  for  the  last  two  weeks,  without  tutor  or 
uncle  to  control  him,  had  just  fallen  from  the  mow, 
and  hurt  himself  somewhat,  and  frightened  himself 
much  more.  The  whole  house  was  in  a  ferment.  He 
was  taken  to  mamma's  room,  for  he  was  a  great  baby 
when  anything  was  the  matter  with  him,  and  would 
not  let  mamma  move  an  inch  away  from  him.  After 
assisting  to  the  best  of  my  ability  in  making  him 
comfortable,  and  seeing  myself  only  in  the  way,  I 
went  down-stairs  again,  and  took  my  seat  upon  the 
balcony  that  overlooked  the  river. 

The  young  moon  was  shining  faintly,  and  the  air 
w&s>  soft  and  balmy.  The  house  was  very  still ;  the 
servants,  I  think,  were  all  in  a  distant  part  of  the  house, 
or  out  enjoying  the  moonlight  and  the  idleness  of 
evening.  Sophie  was  nailed  to  Charley's  bed  up 
stairs,  trying  to  soothe  him ;  Benny  was  sinking  to 
sleep  in  his  little  crib.  It  seemed  like  an  enchanted 
palace,  and  when  I  heard  a  step  crossing  the  parlor,  it 
made  me  start  with  a  vague  feeling  of  alarm.  The 
parlor- window  by  me,  which  opened  to  the" floor,  was 
not  closed,  and  in  another  moment  some  one  came 
out  and  stood  beside  me.  It  was  Mr.  Langenau.  I 
started  up  and  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Langenau,  how  impru 
dent  !  Oh,  go  back  at  once."  • 

He  seemed  weak,  and  his  hand  shook  as  he  leaned 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  161 

against  the  casement,  but  his  eyes  were  glittering  with 
a  feverish  excitement.  He  did  not  answer.  I  went 
on  :  "  The  Doctor  forbade  your  coming  out  for  several 
days  yet — and  the  exertion  and  the  night-air — oh,  I 
beg  you  to  go  back." 

u  Alone  ?"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No,  oh  no,  I  will  go  with  you.  Anything,  only 
do  not  stay  here  a  moment  longer;  come."  And 
taking  his  hand  (and  how  burning  hot  it  was !)  and 
drawing  it  through  my  arm,  I  started  toward  the 
Hall.  He  had  to  lean  on  me,  for  the  unusual  exertion 
seemed  to  have  annihilated  all  his  strength.  When 
we  reached  the  library,  I  led  him  to  a  chair — a  large 
and  low  and  easy  one,  and  he  sank  down  in  it. 

"  You  are  not  going  away  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  gasped 
for  breath,  "  For  there  is  something  that  must  be  said 
to-night." 

"  No,  I  will  not  go,"  I  answered,  frightened  to  see 
him  so,  and  agitated  by  a  thousand  feelings.  "  I  will 
light  the  lamp,  and  read  to  you.  Let  me  move  your 
chair  back  from  the  window." 

"  ISTo,  you  must  not  light  the  lamp ;  I  like  the 
moonlight  better.  Bring  your  chair  and  sit  here  by 
me — here."  He  leaned  and  half-pulled  toward  him 
the  companion  to  the  chair  on  which  he  sat,  a  low, 
soft,  easy  one. 


162  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  sat  down  in  it,  sitting  so  I  nearly  faced  him.  The 
moon  was  shining  in  at  the  one  wide  window :  I  can 
remember  exactly  the  pattern  that  the  vine-leaves 
made  as  the  moonlight  fell  through  them  on  the 
carpet  at  our  feet.  I  had  a  hunch  of  verbena-leaves 
fastened  in  my  dress,  and  I  never  smell  verbena-leaves 
at  any  time  or  place  without  seeing  before  me  that 
moon-traced  pattern  and  that  wide-open  window. 

"Pauline,"  he  said,  in  that  low,  thrilling  voice, 
leaning  a  little  toward  me,  "  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
say  to  you  to-night.  I  have  a  great  wrong  to  ask 
pardon  for — a  great  sorrow  to  tell  you  of.  I  shall 
never  call  you  Pauline  again  as  I  call  you  to-night. 
I  shall  never  look  into  your  eyes  again,  I  shall  never 
touch  your  hand.  For  we  must  part,  Pauline ;  and 
this  hour,  which  heaven  has  given  me,  is  the  last  that 
we  shall  spend  together  on  the  earth." 

I  truly  thought  that  his  fever  had  produced  de 
lirium,  and,  trying  to  conceal  my  alarm,  I  said,  with 
an  attempt  to  quiet  him,  "  Oh,  do  not  say  such  things ; 
we  shall  see  each  other  a  great,  great  many  times,  I 
hope,  and  have  many  more  hours  together." 

"  No,  Pauline,  you  do  not  know  so  well  as  I  of 
what  I  speak.  This  is  no  delirium  ;  would  to  heaven 
it  were,  and  I  might  wake  up  from  it.  No,  the  part 
ing  must  be  said  to-night,  and  I  must  be  the  one  to 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  103 

speak  it.  We  may  spend  days,  perhaps,  under  the 
same  roof — we  may  even  sit  at  the  same  table  once 
again ;  but,  I  repeat,  from  this  day  I  may  never  look 
into  your  eyes  again,  I  may  never  touch  your  hand. 
Pauline,  can  you  forgive  me  ?  I  know  that  you  can 
love.  Merciful  Heaven  !  who  so  well  as  I,  who  have 
held  your  stainless  heart  in  my  stained  hand  these 
many  dreamy  weeks  ;  and  Justice  has  not  struck  me 
dead.  Yes,  Pauline,  I  know  you've  loved  me ;  but 
remember  this  one  thing,  in  all  your  bitter  thoughts 
of  me  hereafter :  remember  this,  you  have  not  loved 
me  as  I  have  loved  you.  You  have  not  given  up 
earth  and  heaven  both  for  me  as  I  have  done  for  you. 
For  you  ?  E"o,  not  for  you,  but  for  the  shadow  of  you, 
for  the  thought  of  you,  for  these  short  weeks  of  you. 
And  then,  an  eternity  of  absence,  and  of  remorse,  and 
of  oblivion — ah,  if  it  might  be  oblivion  for  you  !  If  I 
could  blot  out  of  your  life  this  short,  blighting  sum 
mer  ;  if  I  could  put  you  back  to  where  you  were  that 
fresh,  sweet  morning  that  I  walked  with  you  beside 
the  river !  I  loved  you  from  that  day,  Pauline,  and  I 
drugged  my  conscience,  and  refused  to  heed  that  I 
was  doing  you  a  wrong  in  teaching  you  to  love  me. 
Pauline,  I  have  to  tell  you  a  sad  story :  you  will  have 
to  go  back  with  me  very  far ;  you  will  have  to  hear 
of  sins  of  which  you  never  dreamed  in  your  dear 


164:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

innocence.  I  would  spare  you  if  I  could,  but  you 
must  know,  for  you  must  forgive  me.  And  when  you 
have  heard,  you  may  cease  to  love,  but  I  think  you 
will  forgive.  Listen." 

Why  should  I  repeat  that  terrible  disclosure  ?  why 
harrow  my  soul  with  going  back  over  that  dark  path  ? 
Let  me  try  to  forget  that  such  sins,  such  wrongs,  such 
revenges,  ever  stained  a  human  life.  I  was  so  young, 
so  innocent,  so  ignorant.  It  was  a  strange  misfortune 
that  I  should  have  had  to  know  that  which  aged  and 
changed  me  so.  But  he  was  right  in  saying  that  I 
had  to  know  it.  My  life  was  bound  involuntarily  to 
his  by  my  love,  and  what  concerned  him  was  my  fate. 
Alas  !  He  was  in  no  other  way  bound  to  me  than  by 
my  love  :  nor  ever  could  be. 

I  don't  know  whether  I  was  prepared  for  it  or  not : 
I  knew  that  something  terrible  and  final  was  to  come, 
and  I  felt  the  awe  that  attends  the  thoughts  that 
words  are  final  and  time  limited.  But  when  I  heard 
the  fatal  truth — that  another  woman  lived  to  whom 
he  was  irrevocably  bound — I  heard  it  as  in  a  dream, 
and  did  not  move  or  speak.  I  think  I  felt  for  a  mo 
ment  as  if  I  were  dead,  as  if  I  had  passed  out  of  the 
ranks  of  the  living  into  the  abodes  of  the  silent,  and 
benumbed,  and  pulseless.  There  was  such  a  horrible 
awe,  and  chill,  and  check  through  all  my  young  and 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  165 

rapid  blood.  It  was  like  death  by  freezing.  It  is  not 
so  pleasant  as  they  say,  believe  me.  But  no  pain : 
that  came  afterward,  when  I  came  to  life,  when  I  felt 
the  touch  of  his  hand  on  mine,  »and  ceased  to  hear  his 
cruel  words. 

I  had  shrunk  back  from  him  in  my  chair,  and  sat, 
I  suppose,  like  a  person  in  a  trance,  with  my  hands 
in  my  lap,  and  my  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  bewilder 
ment.  But  when  he  ceased  to  speak — and,  leaning 
forward  on  one  knee,  clasped  my  hands  in  his,  and 
drew  me  toward  him,  then  indeed  I  knew  I  was  not 
dead.  Oh,  the  agony  of  those  few  moments — I  tried  to 
rise,  to  go  away  from  him.  But  he  held  me  with  such 
strength — all  his  weakness  was  gone  now.  He  folded 
his  arms  around  my  waist  and  held  me  as  in  a  vise. 
Then  suddenly  leaning  his  head  down  upon  my  arms, 
he  kissed  my  hands,  my  arms,  my  dress,  with  a  moan 
of  bitter  anguish. 

"  Not  mine,"  he  murmured.  "  Never  mine  but  in 
my  dreams.  O  wretched  dreams,  that  drive  me  mad. 
Pauline,  they  will  tell  us  that  we  must  not  dream — 
we  must  not  weep,  we  must  be  stocks  and  stones. 
We  must  wear  this  weight  of  living  death  till  that 
good  Lord  that  makes  such  laws  shall  send  us  death 
in  mercy.  Twenty,  thirty,  forty,  fifty  years  of  suffer 
ing  :  that  might  almost  satisfy  Him,  one  would  think. 


166  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

Pauline!  you  and  I  are  to  say  good-bye  to-night. 
Good-bye !  People  talk  of  it  as  a  cruel  word.  Think  of 
it : '  if  it  were  but  for  a  year,  a  year  with  hope  at  the 
end  of  it  to  keep  our  hearts  alive,  it  would  be  terrible, 
and  we  should  need  be  brave.  The  tears  that  lovers 
shed  over  a  year  apart ;  the  days  that  have  got  to  come 
and  go,  how  weary.  The  nights — the  nights  that 
sleep  flies  off  from,  and  that  memory  reigns  over. 
Count  them — over  three  hundred  come  in  every  year. 
One,  you  think  while  it  is  passing,  is  enough  to  kill 
you :  one  such  night  of  restless  torture,  and  how  many 
shall  we  multiply  our  three  hundred  by?  We  are 
young,  Pauline.  You  are  a  child,  a  very  child.  I 
am  in  the  very  flush  and  strength  of  manhood.  There 
is  half  a  century  of  suffering  in  me  yet :  this  frame, 
this  brain,  will  stand  the  wear  of  the  hard  years  to 
come  but  too,  too  well.  There  is  no  hope  of  death. 
There  is  no  hope  in  life.  That  star  has  set.  Good 
God !  And  that  makes  hell — why  should  I  wait  for 
it — it  cannot  be  worse  there  than  here.  Don't  listen 
to  me— it  will  not  be  as  hard  for  you — you  are  so 
young — you  have  no  sins  to  torture  you — only  a  little 
love  to  conquer  and  forget.  You  will  marry  a  man 
who  lives  for  you,  and  who  is  patient  and  will  wait 
till  this  is  over.  Ah,  no :  by  Heaven  !  I  can't  quite 
stand  it  yet.  Pauline,  you  never  loved  him,  did  you 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  167 

— never  blushed  for  him — never  listened  for  his  com 
ing  with  your  lips  apart  and  your  heart  fluttering,  as 
I  have  seen  you  listen  when  you  thought  that  I  was 
coming  ?  No,  I  know  you  never  loved  him :  I  know 
you  have  loved  me  alone — me — who  ought  to  have 
forbidden  you.  Forgive — forgive — forgive  me." 

A  passion  of  tears  had  come  to  my  relief,  and  I 
shook  from  head  to  foot  with  sobs.  I  cannot  feel 
ashamed  when  I  remember  that  he  held  me  for  one 
moment  in  his  arms.  He  had  been  to  me  till  that 
shock,  strength,  truth,  justice :  the  man  Iloved.  How 
could  I  in  one  instant  know  him  by  his  sin  alone,  and 
undo  all  my  trust  ?  I  knew  only  this,  that  it  was  for 
the  last  time,  and  that  my  heart  was  broken. 

I  forgave  him — that  was  an  idle  form  ;  in  my  great 
love  I  never  felt  that  there  was  anything  to  be  for 
given,  except  the  wrong  that  fate  had  done  me,  in 
making  my  love  so  hopeless.  He  told  me  to  forget 
him ;  that  seemed  to  me  as  idle ;  but  all  his  words 
were  precious,  and  all  my  soul  was  in  his  hand.  When, 
at  that  moment,  the  sound  of  wheels  upon  the  gravel 
came,  and  the  sound  of  laughter  and  of  voices,  I 
sprang  up ;  he  caught  me  in  his  arms  and  held  me 
closely.  Another  moment,  the  parting  was  over,  and 
I  was  kneeling  by  my  bed  up-stairs,  weeping,  sobbing, 
hopeless. 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 

THE   WORLD    GOES    ON   THE    SAME. 

Into  my  chamber  brightly 
Came  the  early  sun's  good-morrow  ; 

On  my  restless  bed,  unsightly, 
I  sat  up  hi  my  sorrow. 

Faust, 

IT  is  an  amazing  thing,  the  strength  and  power  of 
pride.  Pride,  and  the  law  of  self-respect  and  self- 
preservation  in  our  being,  is  the  force  that  holds  us 
in  our  course.  When  we  reflect  upon  it,  how  few  of 
all  the  myriads  fly  out  from  it  and  are  lost.  That  I 
ate  my  meals ;  that  I  dressed  myself  with  care ;  that 
I  took  walks  and  drives:  that  I  did  not  avoid  my 
companions,  and  listened  patiently  to  what  they  chose 
to  say  :  these  were  the  evidences  of  that  centripetal 
law  within  that  was  keeping  me  from  destruction.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  person  more  unhappy. 
Undisciplined  and  unfortified  by  the  knowledge  that 
disappointment  is  an  integral  part  of  all  lives,  there 
had  suddenly  come  upon  me  a  disappointment  the 
most  total.  It  covered  everything ;  there  was  not  a 
flicker  of  hope  or  palliation.  And  I  had  no  idea 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCZ.  169 

where  to  go  to  make  myself  another  hope,  or  in  what 
course  lay  palliation.  As  we  have  prepared  ourselves 
or  have  been  prepared,  so  is  the  issue  of  our  temp 
tations.  My  great  temptation  came  upon  me,  fool 
ish,  ignorant,  unprepared  :  the  wonder  would  have 
been  if  I  had  resisted  it  to  my  own  credit. 

The  days  went  on  as  usual  at  R ,  and  I  must 

hold  my  place  among  the  careless  daughters  and  not 
let  them  see  my  trouble.  Careless  daughters,  indeed 
they  were,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  their 
cold  eyes :  no  doubt  their  eyes,  bright  as  well  as  cold, 
saw  that  something  was  amiss  with  me ;  with  all  my 
bravery,  I  could  not  keep  the  signs  of  wretchedness 
out  of  my  pale  face.  But  they  never  knew  the  story, 
and  they  could  only  guess  at  what  made  me  wretched. 
It  is  amazing  (again)  what  power  there  is  in  silence, 
and  how  much  you  can  keep  in  your  hands  if  you  do 
not  open  them.  People  may  surmise — may  invent, 
but  they  cannot  know  your  secret  unless  you  tell  it  to 
them,  and  their  imaginings  take  so  many  forms,  the 
multitude  of  things  that  they  create  blot  out  all 
definite  design.  Thus  every  one  at  R had  a  dif 
ferent  theory  about  my  loss  of  spirits  and  the  relapse 
of  Mr.  Langenau,  but  no  one  ever  knew  what  passed 
that  night. 

Richard  came.     He  was  closeted  with  Sophie  until 


170  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

after  midnight,  but  I  do  not  think  he  told  her  any 
thing  that  she  desired  to  know.  I  think  he  only  tried 
to  find  out  from  her  what  had  passed  (and  she  did  not 
know  that  I  had  been  in  the  library  since  she  spoke  to 
me).  If  Mr.  Langenau  had  been  well,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  it  was  his  design  to  have  dismissed  him  on 
the  following  day,  no  matter  at  what  hazard.  How 
much  he  knew  I  cannot  tell,  but  enough  to  have  war 
ranted  him  in  doing  that,  perhaps.  He  probably 
would  have  put  it  in  Mr.  Langenau's  power  to  have 
gone  without  any  coloring  put  upon  his  going  that 
would  have  affected  his  standing  in  the  household. 
This  was  his  design,  no  doubt ;  otherwise  he  would 
have  told  his  sister  all.  His  delicate  consideration  for 
me  made  him  guard  as  sacred  the  fact  that  I  had 
wasted  my  hope  and  love  so  cruelly. 

He  was  not  going  away  again,  I  soon  found ;  qui  va 
d  la  chasseperd  sa  place.  He  had  lost  his  place,  but 
he  would  stay  and  guard  me  all  the  same;  and 
the  chase  for  gold  seemed  given  up  for  good  and 
aU. 

Kilian  was  in  constant  surprise,  and  made  out  many 
catechisms,  but  he  got  little  satisfaction. 

Richard  was  going  to  have  a  few  weeks'  "rest," 
unless  something  should  occur  to  call  him  back  to 
town. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  1ft 

He  sought  no  interview  with  me,  was  kind  and 
silent,  but  his  eye  was  never  off  me.  I  think  he 
watched  his  opportunity  for  saying  what  he  had  to 
say  to  Mr.  Langenau,  but  such  an  opportunity  seemed 
destined  not  to  come.  9 

Mr.  Langenau  was  ill  the  day  after  Richard  came 
home — quite  ill  enough  to  cause  alarm.  He  had  a 
high  fever,  and  the  Doctor  even  seemed  uneasy,  and 
prescribed  the  profoundest  quiet.  After  a  day  or 
two,  however,  he  improved,  and  all  danger  seemed 
averted. 

As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough,  he  was  to  be 
removed  to  his  own  room  above,  for  the  sake  of  quiet, 
and  to  release  the  household  from  its  enforced  tran 
quillity. 

All  these  particulars  I  heard  at  table,  or  from 
morning  groups  on  the  piazza:  with  stony 
cheeks,  and  eyes  that  looked  unflinchingly  into 
all  curious  faces:  so  works  the  law  of  self-de 
fence. 

All  but  Richard,  I  am  sure,  were  staggered,  but  he 
read  with  his  heart. 

I  never  blushed  now,  I  never  faltered,  I  never 
said  a  word  I  did  not  mean  to  say.  It  was  a 
struggle  for  life:  though  I  did  not  value  the 
life,  and  should  have  found  it  hard  to  say  why 


172  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I   did  not  give   up   and  let   them   see   that  I  was 
killed. 

But  I  kept  wondering  how  I  should  sustain  myself 
if  I  should  be  called  upon  to  meet  him  once  again. 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

GUARDED. 

Forever  at  her  side,  and  yet  forever  lonely, 

I  shall  unto  the  end  have  made  life's  journey,  only 

Daring  to  ask  for  naught,  and  having  naught  received. 

Felix  Arvers. 

Duty  to  God  is  duty  to  her ;  I  think 
God,  who  created  her,  will  save  her  too 
Some  new  way,  by  one  miracle  the  more 
Without  me.     Then,  prayer  may  avail,  perhaps. 

R  Browning. 

"  ME.  LANGENATT  is  coining  down  to-day,"  said  Char 
lotte  Benson  in  a  stage-whisper,  as  we  took  our  places 
at  the  table,  a  week  after  this.  "  I  met  him  in  the 
hall  about  an  hour  ago,  looking  like  a  ghost,  and  he 
told  me  he  was  coming  down  to  dinner." 

"  Vraiment"  said  Sophie,  looking  a  little  discon 
certed.  "  Well,  he  shall  have  Charley's  place.  Char 
ley  isn't  coming." 

"  I  hope  he's  in  a  better  temper  than  that  last  day 
we  saw  him,"  said  Henrietta. 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  said  Charlotte,  "  that  was  the  day 
before  the  fever  began.  It  was  coming  on :  that  was 
the  reason  of  it  all,  no  doubt.  He  looks  ghastly 


1Y4  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

enough  now.     You'll  forgive  all,  the  moment  that 
you  see 'him." 

Charlotte  had  forgiven  him  herself,  though  she 
had  never  resumed  the  role  of  Florence  Nightingale. 
Since  he  had  given  up  the  library  and  removed  to 
his  own  room,  he  had  been  quite  lost  to  all,  and 
nobody  seemed  to  have  gone  near  him,  not  even 
Sophie,  who  would  have  been  glad  to  forget  that  he 
existed,  without  doubt. 

Richard's  eyes  were  on  me  as  Charlotte  said 
"Hush!"  and  a  step  crossed  the  hall  in  the  pause 
that  ensued.  Kilian,  sitting  next  me,  began  to  talk 
to  me  at  that  moment,  the  moment  that  Mr.  Langenau 
entered  the  room.  And  I  think  I  answered  quite 
coherently:  though  two  sets  of  words  were  going 
through  my  brain,  the  answer  to  his  commonplace 
question,  and  the  words  that  Mr.  Langenau  had  said 
that  night,  "  Pauline,  I  shall  never  look  into  youf 
eyes  again,  I  shall  never  touch  your  hand." 

It  seemed  to  me  an  even  chance  which  sentence 
saw  the  day ;  but  as  the  walls  did  not  fall  down  about 
me  and  no  face  looked  amazement,  I  found  I  must 
have  answered  Kilian's  question  with  propriety. 

There  were  many  voices  speaking  at  once ;  but 
there  was  such  a  ringing  in  my  ears,  I  could  not  dis 
tinguish  who  spoke,  or  what  was  said :  for  a  moment 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 


I  was  lost,  if  any  one  had  taken  advantage  of  it. 
But  gradually  I  regained  my  senses  :  one  after  another 
they  each  took  up  their  guard  again  :  and  I  looked 
up.  And  met  his  eyes  ?  No  ;  but  let  mine  rest  upon 
his  face.  And  then  I  found  I  had  not  measured  my 
temptation,  and  that  there  was  something  to  do  be 
sides  defending  myself  from  others'  eyes.  For  there 
was  to  defend  myself  from  my  own  heart.  The  pas 
sion  of  pity  and  tenderness  that  rushed  over  me  as 
my  eyes  fell  on  his  haggard  face,  so  strong  and  yet  so 
wan,  swept  away  for  the  moment  the  defences  against 
the  public  gaze.  I  could  have  fallen  down  at  his 
feet  before  them  all  and  told  him  that  I  loved 
him. 

A  few  moments  more  of  the  sound  of  commonplace 
words,  and  the  repulsion  of  every-day  faces  and  ex 
pressions,  swept  me  back  into  the  circle  of  convention 
alities,  and  brought  me  under  the  force  of  that  current 
that  keeps  us  from  high  tragedy. 

All  during  the  meal  Mr.  Langenau  was  grave  and 
silent,  speaking  little  and  then  with  effort.  He  had 
overrated  his  strength,  perhaps,  for  he  went  away  be 
fore  the  end  of  the  dinner,  asking  to  be  excused,  in  a 
tone  almost  inaudible.  After  he  had  gone,  a  good 
many  commentaries  were  offered.  Kilian  seemed  to 
express  the  sense  of  the  assembly  when  he  said: 


176  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  The  man  looks  shockingly,  and  he's  not  out  of  the 
woods  yet." 

Sophie  looked  troubled:  she  had  some  compunc 
tions  for  the  neglect  of  the  last  few  days,  perhaps. 

"  What  does  the  Doctor  say  ?"  pursued  her  brother. 

"  Nothing,  I  suppose — for  he  hasn't  been  here  for 
a  week,  almost." 

"  Well,  then,  you'd  better  send  for  him,  if  you  don't 
w^ant  the  fellow  to  die  on  your  hands.  He's  not  fit  to 
be  out  of  bed,  and  you'll  have  trouble  if  you  don't 
look  out." 

"  As  if  I  hadn't  had  trouble,"  returned  his  sister, 
almost  peevishly. 

"  Well,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sophie.  But  I  fancied 
you  and  Miss  Charlotte  were  in  charge ;  and  I  thought 
about  ten  days  ago,  your  patient  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  killed  with  kindness,  and  it's  a  little  of  a  surprise  to 
me  to  find  he's  being  let  alone  so  very  systematically." 

"Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  cried  Charlotte  Ben 
son,  "we  were  turned  out  of  office  without  much 
ceremony,  one  fine  day  after  dinner.  I  am  quite 
willing  to  be  forgiving;  but  I  don't  think  you  can 
ask  me  to  put  myself  in  the  way  of  being  snubbed 
again  to  that  extent." 

"  The  ungrateful  varlet-!  what  did  he  complain  of? 
Hadn't  he  been  coddled  enough  to  please  him  1  Did 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  177 

he  want  four  or  five  more  women  dancing  attendance 
on  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  want  of  attention  he  complained  of. 
In  fact,"  said  Charlotte,  coloring,  "It  was  that  he 
didn't  like  quite  so  much,  and  wanted  to  be  allowed 
more  liberty." 

Kilian  indulged  in  a  good  laugh,  which  wasn't  quite 
fair,  considering  Charlotte's  candor. 

"  But  the  truth  is,"  said  Charlotte,  uneasily,  "  that 
he  was  too  ill,  that  day,  to  be  responsible  for  what  he 
said.  He  was  just  coming  down  with  the  fever,  and, 
you  know,  people  are  always  most,  unreasonable  then." 

"  I'm  very  glad  I  never  gave  him  a  chance  to  dis 
pense  with  me,"  said  Mary  Leighton,  with  a  view  to 
making  herself  amiable  in  Kilian's  eyes. 

"  I  think  he  dispensed  with  you  early  in  the  season," 
said  Charlotte,  sharply.  "  Oh,  hast  thou  forgotten  that 
walk  that  he  took,  upon  your  invitation  ?  Ah,  Miss 
Leighton,  his  look  was  quite  dramatic.  I  know  you 
never  have  forgiven  him." 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  you  are  talking  of," 
returned  Mary  Leighton,  with  bewildered  and  child 
like  simplicity. 

"  Ah,  then  it  was  not  as  unique  an  occurrence  as  I 
hoped,"  said  Charlotte,  viciously.  "I  imagined  it 

would  make  more  of  an  impression." 

8* 


178  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"Charlotte,"  interrupted  Sophie,  shocked  at  this 
open  impoliteness,  "  I  hope  you  are  forgiving  enough 
to  break  it  to  him  that  he's  got  to  see  the  Doctor ;  for 
if  he  comes  unexpectedly  and  goes  up  to  his  room,  he 
will  be  dramatic,  and  that  is  so  unpleasant,  as  we  know 
to  our  sorrow." 

"  Indeed,  I  shan't  tell  him,"  cried  Charlotte,  "  you 
can  take  your  life  in  your  hand,  and  try  it  if  you 
please ;  but  I  cannot  consent  to  risk  myself.  There's 
Mary  Leighton,  she  bears  no  malice.  Perhaps  she'll 
go  with  you  as  support." 

"  Ha,  ha !"  cried  Kilian.  "  Richard,  you  and  I  may 
be  called  on  to  bring  up  the  rear.  There's  the  Gen 
eral's  old  sword  in  the  hall,  and  I'll  take  the  Joe 
Manton  from  the  shelf  in  the  library." 

"  .Richard  looks  as  if  he  -disapproved  of  us  all  very 
much,"  said  Sophie,  and  in  truth  Richard  did  look 
just  so.  He  did  not  even  answer  these  suggestions, 
but  began  after  a  moment  to  talk  to  Henrietta  on  in 
different  matters. 

It  was  on  this  afternoon  that  a  .new  policy  was  in 
augurated  at  R .  We  were  taught  to  feel  that  we 

had  been  quite  aggrieved  by  the  dullness  of  the  past 
two  weeks  or  more,  and  that  we  must  be  compensated 
by  some  refreshing  novelties. 

Richard  was  at  the  head  of  the  movement — Richard 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  179 

with  his  sober  cares  and  weary  look.  But  the  incon 
gruity  struck  no  one ;  they  were  too  glad  to  be  amused. 
Even  Sophie  brightened  up.  Charlotte  was  ready  to 
throw  her  energies  into  any  active  scheme,  hospital  or 
picnic,  charity-school  or  kettle-drum. 

(t  To-morrow  wTill  be  just  the  sort  of  day  for  it," 
said  "Richard,  "  cool  and  tine.  And  half  the  pleasure 
of  a  picnic  is  not  having  time  to  get  tired  of  it 

beforehand." 

% 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Charlotte  ;  "  but  I  don't 
see  how  we're  going  to  get  everybody  notified  and 
everything  in  order  for  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Nothing  easier,"  said  Kilian  ;  "  we'll  go,  directly 
after  tea,  to  the  De  "Witts  and  Prentices,  and  send 
Thomas  with  a  note  to  the  Lowders.  Sophie  has 
done  her  part  in  shorter  time  than  that,  very  often ; 
and  I  don't  believe  we  should  be  starved,  if  she  only 
gave  half  an  hour's  notice  to  the  cook." 

What  is  heavier  than  pleasure-seeking  in  which  one 
has  no  pleasure  ?  I  shall  never  forget  the  misery  of 
those  plans  and  that  bustle.  I  dared  not  absent  my 
self,  and  I  could  scarcely  carry  out  my  part  for  very 
heavy-heartedness.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  not 
bear  it,  if  the  hour  came,  and  I  should  have  to  drive 
away  with  all  that  merry  party,  and  leave  poor  Mr. 
Langenau  for  a  long,  long  day  alone. 


180  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  felt  sure  something  would  occur  to  release  me :  it 
could  not  be  that  I  should  have  to  go.  With  the 
exaggeration  of  youth,  it  seemed  to  me  an  impossi 
bility  that  I  could  endure  anything  so  grievous.  How 
I  hated  all  the  careless,  thoughtless,  happy  household ! 
Only  Richard,  enemy  as  he  was  to  my  happiness, 
seemed  endurable  to  me.  For  Richard  was  not 
merry-making  in  his  heart,  and  I  was  sure  he  was 
sorry  for  me  all  the  time  he  was  trying  to  oppose  me. 

Mr.  Langenau  was  again  in  the  Doctor's  care,  who 
came  that  evening,  and  who  said  to  Richard,  in  my 
hearing,  he  must  be  kept  quiet ;  he  didn't  altogether 
like  his  symptoms. 

Richard  had  his  hands  full,  with  great  matters 
and  small.  Sophie  had  washed  hers  of  the  invalid ; 
there  had  been  some  sharpish  words  between  the 
sister  and  brother  on  the  matter,  I  imagine,  and  the 
result  was,  Richard  was  the  only  one  who  did  or  would 
do  anything  for  his  comfort  and  safety. 

That  day,  after  appearing  at  dinner,  he  came  no 
more.  I  watched  with  feverish  anxiety  every  step, 
every  sound ;  but  he  came  not.  I  knew  that  the 
Doctor's  admonitions  would  not  have  much  weight,  nor 
yet  Richard's  opinion.  I  had  the  feeling  that  if  he- 
would  only  speak  to  me,  only  look  at  me  once,  it 
would  ease  that  horrible  oppression  and  pain  which  I 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  181 

was  suffering.  The  agony  I  was  enduring  was  so  in 
tolerable,  and  its  real  relief  so  impossible,  like  a  child 
I  caught  at  some  fancied  palliation,  and  "craved  only 
that.  "What  would  one  look,  one  word  be — out  of  a 
lifetime  of  silence  and  separation. 

No  matter :  it  was  what  I  raged  and  died  for,  just 
one  look,  just  one  word  more.  He  had  said  he  would 
never  look  into  my  eyes  again  :  that  haunted  me  and 
made  me  superstitious.  I  would  make  him  look  at 
me.  I  would  seize  his  hand  and  kneel  before  him, 
and  tell  him  I  should  die  if  he  did  not  speak  to  me 
once  more.  Once  more !  Just  once,  out  of  years, 
out  of  forever.  I  had  thrown  duty,  conscience, 
thought  to  the  winds.  I  had  but  one  fear — that  we 
should  be  finally  separated  without  that  word  spoken, 
that  look  exchanged.  I  said  to  myself  again  and 
again,  I  shall  die,  if  I  cannot  speak  to  him  again. 
Beyond  that  I  did  not  look.  What  better  I  should 
be  after  that  speaking  I  did  not  care.  I  only  longed 
and  looked  for  that  as  a  relief  from  the  insufferable 
agony  of  my  fate.  One  cannot  take  in  infinite 
wretchedness:  it  is  our  nature  to  make  dates  and 
periods  to  our  sorrows  in  our  imagination. 

And  so  that  horrid  afternoon  and  evening  passed, 
amid  the  racket  and  babel  of  visitors  and  visiting.  I 
followed  almost  blindly,  and  did  as  the  others  did. 


182  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  cold.  What  a 
day  for  summer!  The  sun  was  brilliant,  but  the 
wind  came  from  over  icebergs ;  it  seemed  like  "  winter 
painted  green." 

"We  were  to  start  at  nine  o'clock.  I  was  ready 
early,  waiting  on  the  piazza  for  the  aid  to  fate  that 
was  to  keep  me  from  the  punishment  of  going.  No 
human  being  had  spoken  his  name  that  morning. 
How  should  I  know  whether  he  were  still  so  ill  or  no. 

The  hour  for  starting  had  arrived.  Richard,  who 
never  kept  long  out  of  sight  of  me,  was  busy  loading 
the  wagon  that  was  to  accompany  us,  with  baskets  of 
things  to  eat,  and  with  wines  and  fruits.  Kilian  was 
engrossed  in  arranging  the  seats  and  cushions  in  the 
two  carriages  which  had  just  driven  to  the  door. 

Mary  Leighton  was  fluttering  about  the  flower-bed 
at  the  left  of  the  piazza,  making  herself  lovely  with 
geranium  and  roses.  Sophie,  in  a  beautiful  costume, 
was  pacifying  Charley,  who  had  had  a  difference  with 
his  uncle  Kilian.  Charlotte  and  Henrietta  were  busy 
in  their  small  way  over  a  little  basket  of  preserves ; 
and  two  or  three  of  the  neighboring  gentlemen,  who 
were  to  drive  with  us,  were  approaching  the  house  by 
a  side-entrance. 

In  a  moment  or  two  we  should  be  ready  to  be  off. 
What  should  I  do  ?  I  was  frantic  with  the  thought 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  183 

that  he  might  be  worse,  he  might  go  away.  I  was  to 
be  absent  such  a  length  of  time.  I  must — I  would 
see  him  before  we  went.  What  better  moment  than 
the  present,  when  everybody  was  engaged  in  this  fret 
ting,  foolish  picnic.  I  would  run  up -stairs — call  to 
him  outside  his  door — make  him  speak  to  me. 

With  a  guilty  look  around,  I  started  up,  stole 
through  the  group  on  the  piazza,  and  ran  to  the  stairs. 
But  alas,  Richard  had  not  failed  to  mark  my  move 
ments,  and  before  my  foot  had  touched  the  stair  his 
voice  recalled  me.  I  started  with  a  guilty  look,  and 
trembled,  but  dared  not  meet  his  eye. 

"  Pauline,  are  you  going  away  ?  We  are  just  ready 
start." 

If  I  had  had  any  presence  of  mind  I  should  have 
made  an  excuse,  and  gone  to  my  own  room  for  a 
moment,  and  taken  my  chance  of  getting  to  the  floor 
above  ;  but  I  suppose  he  would  have  forestalled  me.  I 
could  not  command  a  single  word,  but  turned  back 
and  followed  him.  As  we  got  into  the  carriage,  the 
voices  and  the  laughing  really  seemed  to  madden  me. 
Driving  away  from  the  house,  I  never  shall  forget  the 
sensation  of  growing  heaviness  at  my  heart ;  it  seemed 
to  be  turning  into  lead.  I  glanced  back  at  the  closed 
windows  of  his  room  and  wondered  if  he  saw  us,  and 
if  he  thought  that  I  was  happy. 


184:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

The  length  of  that  day !  The  glare  of  that  sun  ! 
The  chill  of  that  unnatural  wind !  Every  moment 
seemed  to  me  an  hour.  I  can  remember  with  such 
distinctness  the  whole  day,  each  thing  as  it  happened  ; 
conversations  which  seemed  so  senseless,  preparations 
which  seemed  so  endless.  The  taste  of  the  things  I 
tried  to  eat :  the  smell  of  the  grass  on  which  we  sat, 
and  the  pine-trees  above  our  heads :  the  sound  of  fire 
blazing  under  the  teakettle,  and  the  pained  sensation 
of  my  eyes  when  the  smoke  blew  across  into  our 
faces :  the  ffateful  vibration  of  Mary  Leighton's  laugh : 
all  these  things  are  unnaturally  vivid  to  me  at  this  day. 

I  don't  know  what  the  condition  of  my  brain  must 
have  been,  to  have  received  such  an  exaggerated  im 
pression  of  unimportant  things. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Miss  Pauline?"  said  Kil- 
ian,  throwing  himself  down  on  the  grass  at  my  feet. 
I  could  not  sit  down  for  very  impatience,  but  was 
walking  restlessly  about,  and  was  now  standing  for  a 
moment  by  a  great  tree  under  which  the  table  had 
been  spread.  It  was  four  o'clock,  and  there  was  only 
vague  talk  of  going  home;  the  horses  had  not  yet 
been  brought  up,  the  baskets  were  not  a  quarter 
packed.  Every  one  was  indolent,  and  a  good  deal 
tired ;  the  gentlemen  were  smoking,  and  no  one  seemed 
in  a  hurry. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  185 

"When  Kilian  said,  "  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Miss 
Pauline  ?"  I  could  not  help  saying, "  Take  me  home." 

"  Home  !"  cried  Kilian.  "  Here  is  somebody  talk 
ing  about  going  home.  Why,  Miss  Pauline,  I  am 
just  beginning  to  enjoy  myself !  only  look,  it  is  but 
four  o'clock." 

"  Oh,  let  us  stay  and  go  home  by  moonlight,"  cried 
Mary  Leighton,  in  a  little  rapture. 

"  Would  it  not  be  heavenly  !"  said  Henrietta. 

"How  about  tea?"  said  Charlotte.  "We  shall  be 
hungry  before  moonlight,  and  there  isn't  anything  left 
to  eat." 

"  How  material !"  cried  Kilian,  who  had  eaten  an 
enormous  dinner. 

"  We  shall  all  get  cold,"  said  Sophie,  who  loved  to 
be  comfortable,  "  and  the  children  are  beginning  to  be 
very  cross." 

"  Small  blame  to  them,"  muttered  a  dissatisfied 
man  in  my  ear,  who  had  singled  me  out  as  a  compan 
ion-  in  discontent,  and  had  pursued  me  with  his  con 
tempt  for  pastoral  entertainments,  and  for  this  enter 
tainment  in  especial. 

"  Well,  let  the  people  that  want  to  stay,  stay ;  but 
let  us  go  home,"  I  said,  hastily. 

"  That  is  so  like  you,  Pauline,"  exclaimed  Mary 
Leighton,  in  a  voice  that  stung  me  like  nettles. 


186  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  It  is  very  like  common-sense,"  I  said,  "  if  that's 
like  me." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  particularly."  • 

"  Let  dogs  delight,"  said  Kilian,  "  I  have  a  compro 
mise  to  offer.  If  we  go  home  by  the  bridge  we  pass 
the  little  Brink  hotel,  where  they  give  capital  teas. 
"We  can  stop  there,  rest,  get  tea,  have  a  dance  in  the 
'  ball-room,'  sixteen  by  twenty,  and  go  home  by 
moonlight,  filling  the  souls  of  Miss  Leighton  and 
Henrietta  with  bliss." 

A  chorus  of  ecstasy  followed  this ;  Sophie  herself  was 
satisfied  with  the  plan,  and  exulted  in  the  prospect  of 
washing  her  face,  and  lying  down  on  a  bed  for  half 
an  hour,  though  only  at  a  little  country  inn.  Even  this 
low  form  of  civilized  life  was  tempting,  after  seven 
hours  spent  in  communion  with  nature  on  hard  rocks. 

Great  alacrity  was  shown  in  getting  ready  and  in 
getting  off.  I  could  not  speak  to  any  one,  not  even 
the  dissatisfied  man,  but  walked  away  by  myself  and 
tried  to  let  no  one  see  what  I  was  feeling.  After  all 
was  ready,  I  got  into  the  carriage  beside  one  of  the 
Miss  Lowders,  and  the  dissatisfied  man  sat  opposite. 
He  wore  canvas  shoes  and  a  corduroy  suit,  and  sleeve- 
buttons  and  studs  that  were  all  bugs  and  bees.  I 
think  I  could  make  a  drawing  of  the  sleeve-button  on 
the  arm  with  which  he  held  the  umbrella  over  us ; 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  1ST 

there  were  five  different  forms  of  insect-life  repre 
sented  on  it,  but  I  remember  them  all. 

"I'm  afraid  you  haven't  enjoyed  yourself  very 
much,"  said  Miss  Lowder,  looking  at  me  rather 
critically. 

'•'  I  ?  why — no,  perhaps  not ;  I  don't  generally  enjoy 
myself  very  much." 

Somebody  out  on  the  front  seat  laughed  very 
shrilly  at  this :  of  course  it  was  Mary  Leigh  ton,  who 
was  sitting  beside  Kilian,  who  drove.  I  felt  I  would 
have  liked  to  push  her  over  among  the  horses,  and 
drive  on. 

"  Isn't  her  voice  like  a  steel  file  ?"  I  said  with  great 
simplicity  to  my  companions.  The  dissatisfied  man, 
writhing  uncomfortably  on  his  seat,  four  inches  too 
narrow  for  any  one  but  a  child  of  six,  assented 
gloomily.  Miss  Lowder,  who  was  twenty-eight  years 
old  and  very  well  bred,  looked  disapproving,  and 
changed  the  subject.  Not  much  more  was  said  after 
this.  Miss  Lowder  had  a  neuralgic  headache,  devel 
oped  by  the  cold  wind  and  an  undigested  dinner  eaten 
irregularly.  She  was  too  polite  to  mention  her  suffer 
ings,  but  leaned  back  in  the  carriage  and  was  silent. 

My  vis-a-vis  was  at  last  relieved  by  the  declining 
sun  from  his  task,  and  so  the  umbrella-arm  and  its 
sleeve-button  were  removed  from  my  range  of  vision. 


188  RIC&ABD  VANDERMARCK. 

We  counted  the  mile-posts,  and  we  looked  some 
times  at  our  watches,  and  so  the  time  wore  away. 

Kilian  and  Mary  Leighton  were  chattering  inces 
santly,  and  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  us.  Kilian 
drove  pretty  fast  almost  all  the  way,  but  sometimes 
forgot  himself  when  Mary  was  too  seductive,  and  let 
the  horses  creep  along  like  snails. 

"  There's  our  little  tavern,"  cried  Kilian  at  last, 
starting  up  the  horses. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  murmured  Mary  Leighton,  "  we 
have  had  such  a  lovely  drive." 

My  vis-a-vis  groaned  and  looked  at  me  as  this 
observation  reached  us.  I  laughed  a  little  hysterically : 
I  was  so  glad  to  be  at  the  half-way  house — and  Mary 
Leighton's  words  were  so  absurd.  "When  we  got  out 
of  the  carriage,  the  dissatisfied  man  stretched  his  long 
English  limbs  out,  and  lighting  his  cigar,  began  silently 
to  pace  the  bricks  in  front  of  the  house. 

Kilian  took  us  into  the  little  parlor  (we  were  the 
first  to  arrive),  and  committed  us  to  the  care  of  a  thin, 
tired-looking  woman,  and  then  went  to  see  to  the 
comfort  of  his  horses. 

The  tired  woman,  who  looked  as  if  she  never  had 
sat  down  since  she  grew  up,  took  us  to  some  rooms, 
where  we  were  to  rest  till  tea  was  ready.  The  rooms 
had  been  shut  up  all  day,  and  the  sun  had  been  beat- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  189 

ing  on  them :  they  smellofl  of  paint  and  dust  and  ill- 
brushed  carpets.  The  water  in  the  pitchers  was  warm 
and  not  very  clear:  the  towels  were  very  small  and 
thin,  the  beds  were  hard,  and  the  pillows  very  small, 
like  the  towels :  they  felt  soft  and  warm  and  limp,  like 
sick  kittens.  We  threw  open  the  windows  and  aired 
the  rooms,  and  washed  our  faces  and  hands  :  and  Miss 
Lowder  lay  down  on  the  bed  and  put  her  head  on  a 
pile  of  four  of  the  little  pillows  collected  from  the 
different  rooms.  Mary  Leighton  spent  the  time  in 
re-arranging  her  hair,  and  I  walked  up  and  down  the 
hall,  too  impatient  to  rest  myself  in  any  way. 

By-and-by  the  others  came,  and  then  there  was  a 
hubbub  and  a  clatter,  and  poor  Miss  Lowder's  head 
was  overlooked  in  the  melee ;  for  these  were  all  the 
rooms  the  house  afforded  for  the  entertainment  of 
wayfarers,  and  as  there  were  nine  ladies  in  our 
party,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  confusion 
that  ensued. 

Benny  and  Charley  also  came  to  have  their  hair 
arranged,  and  it  devolved  on  Charlotte  and  me  to  do 
it,  as  their  mamma  had  thrown  herself  exhausted  on 
one  of  the  beds,  and  with  the  bolsters  doubled  up 
under  her  head,  was  trying  to  get  some  rest. 

It  was  fully  half-past  seven  before  the  tea-bell  rang. 
I  seized  Benny's  hand,  and  we  were  the  first  on  the 


190  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

ground.  I  don't  know  hojK  I  thought  this  would  be 
useful  in  hurrying  matters,  for  Benny's  tea  and  mine 
were  very  soon  taken,  and  were  very  insignificant 
fractions  of  the  general  business. 

There  were  kerosene  lamps  on  the  table,  and  every 
thing  was  served  in  the  plainest  manner,  but  the 
cooking  was  really  good,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
tired  woman  had  been  on  her  feet  all  her  life  to  some 
purpose.  Almost  every  one  was  hungry,  and  the 
contrast  to  the  cold  meats,  and  the  hard  rocks,  and 
the  disjointed  apparatus  of  the  noonday  meal,  was 
very  favorable. 

Richard  had  put  me  between  himself  and  Benny, 
and  he  watched  my  undiminished  supper  with  dis 
approbation  :  but  I  do  not  believe  he  ate  much  more 
himself.  He  put  everything  that  he  thought  I  might 
like,  before  me,  silently :  and  I  think  the  tired  woman 
(who  was  waitress  as  well  as  cook),  must  have  groaned 
over  the  frequent  changing  of  my  plate. 

"  Do  not  take  any  more  of  that,"  he  said,  as  I  put 
out  my  hand  for  another  cup  of  coffee. 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  take  ?"  I  exclaimed  peevishly. 
But  indeed  I  did  not  mean  to  be  peevish,  nor  did  I 
know  quite  what  I  said,  I  was  so  miserable.  Richard 
sighed  as  he  turned  away  and  answered  some  question 
of  Sophie ;  who  was  quite  revived. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  191 

Charlotte  and  Henrietta  each  had  an  admirer,  one 
of  the  Lowders,  and  a  young  Frenchman  who  had 
come  with  the  Lowders. 

It  had  evidently  been  a  very  happy  day  with  all 
the  young  ladies  from  the  house.  After  tea  the 
gentlemen  must  smoke,  and  after  the  smoking  there 
was  to  be  dancing.  The  preparations  for  the  dancing 
created  a  good  deal  of  amusement  and  consumed  a 
great  deal  of  time.  Kilian  and  young  Lowder  went 
a  mile  and  a  half  to  get  a  man  to  play  for  them. 
When  he  came,  he  had  to  be  instructed  as  to  the  style 
of  music  to  be  furnished,  and  the  rasping  and  scraping 
of  that  miserable  instrument  put  me  beside  myself 
with  nervousness.  Then  the  "  ball-room"  had  to  be 
aired  and  lighted ;  then  the  negro's  music  was  found 
to  be  incompatible  with  modern  movements  ;  even  a 
waltz  was  proved  impossible,  and  nobody  would  con 
sent  to  remember  a  quadrille  but  Richard.  So  they 
had  to  fall  back  upon  Virginia  reels,  and  everybody 
was  made  to  dance. 

The  dissatisfied  man  was  at  my  side  when  the  order 
was  given.  He  turned  to  me  languidly,  and  offered 
me  his  hand. 

"No,"  I  exclaimed,  biting  my  lips  with  im 
patience,  and  added,  "  You  will  excuse  me,  won't 
you?" 


192  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

He  said,  with  grave  philosophy,  "  I  really  think  it 
will  seem  shorter  than  if  we  were  looking  on." 

I  accepted  this  wise  counsel,  and  went  to  dance 
with  him.  And  what  a  dance  it  was  !  The  blinking 
kerosene  lamps  at  the  sides  of  the  room,  the  asparagus 
boughs  overhead,  the  grinning  negro  on  the  little 
platform  by  the  door :  the  amused  faces  looking  in  at 
the  open  windows  :  the  romping,  well-dressed,  pretty 
women :  the  handsome  men  who  were  trying  to  act 
like  clowns :  the  noise  of  laughing  and  the  calling  out 
of  the  figures :  all  this,  I  am  sure,  I  never  shall  forget. 
And,  strange  to  say,  T  somewhat  enjoyed  it  after  all. 
The  coffee  had  stimulated  me  :  the  music  was  merry  : 
I  was  reckless,  and  my  companions  were  full  of  glee. 
Even  the  ennuye  skipped  up  and  down  the  room 
like  a  school-boy :  I  never  shall  forget  Richard's 
happy  and  relieved  expression,  when  I  laughed  aloud 
at  somebody's  amusing  blunder. 

Then  came  the  reaction,  when  the  dancing  was 
over,  and  we  were  getting  ready  to  go  home.  It  was 
a  good  deal  after  ten  o'clock,  and  the  night  was  cold. 
There  were  not  quite  shawls  enough,  no  preparations 
having  been  made  for  staying  out  after  dark.  Richard 
went  up  to  Sophie  (I  was  standing  out  by  the  steps 
to  be  ready  the  moment  the  carriages  should  come), 
and  I  heard  him  negotiating  with  her  for  a  shawl  for 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  193 

me.  She  was  quite  impatient  and  peremptory,  though 
sotto  voce.  The  children  needed  both  her  extra  ones, 
and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 

I  did  not  care  at  all,  and  feeling  warm  with  danc 
ing,  did  not  dread  what  I  had  not  yet  felt.  I  pulled 
my  light  cloak  around  me,  and  only  longed  for  the 
carriage  to  arrive.  But  after  we  had  started  and  were 
about  forty  rods  from  the  door,  quite  out  of  the  light 
of  the  little  tavern,  just  within  a  grove  of  locust-trees 
(the  moon  was  under  clouds),  Richard's  voice  called 
out  to  Kilian  to  stop,  and  coming  up  to  the  side  of 
the  carriage,  said,  "  Put  this  around  you,  Pauline,  you 
haven't  got  enough."  He  pat  something  around  my 
shoulders  which  felt  very  warm  and  comfortable :  I 
believe  I  said,  Thank  you,  though  I  am  not  at  all  sure, 
and  Kilian  drove  on  rapidly. 

By-and-by,  when  I  began  to  feel  a  little  chilly,  I 
drew  it  together  round  my  throat :  the  air  was  like 
November,  and,  August  though  it  was,  there  was  a 
white  frost  that  night.  I  was  frightened  when  I 
found  what  I  had  about  my  shoulders.  It  was  Rich 
ard's  coat.  I  called  to  Kilian  to  stop  a  moment,  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  Richard.  But  when  we  stopped, 
the  carriage  in  which  he  was  to  drive  was  just  behind 
us — and  some  one  in  it  said,  Richard  had  walked.  He 

had  not  come  back  after  he  ran  out  to  speak  to  us — 

9    - 


194  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

must  have  struck  across  the  fields  and  gone  ahead. 
And  Richard  walked  home,  five  miles,  that  night ! 
the  only  way  to  save  himself  from  the  deadly  chill  of 
the  keen  air,  without  his  coat. 

"When  we  drove  into  the  gate,  at  home,  I  stooped 
eagerly  forward  to  get  a  sight  of  the  house  through 
the  trees.  There  was  a  light  burning  in  the  room 
over  mine :  that  was  all  I  wanted  to  know,  and  with 
a  sigh  of  relief  I  sank  back. 

When  we  went  into  the  hall,  I  remembered  to  hang 
Richard's  coat  upon  a  rack  there,  and  then  ran  to  my 
room.  I  could  not  get  any  news  of  Mr.  Langenau, 
and  could  not  hear  how  the  day  had  gone  with  him  : 
could  only  take  the  hope  that  the  sight  of  the  little 
lamp  conveyed. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

I    SHALL    HAVE    SEEN    HIM. 

Go  on,  go  on  : 

Thou  canst  not  speak  too  much ;  I  have  deserved 
All  tongues  to  talk  their  bitterest. 

Winter's  Tale. 

OF  course,  the  night  was  entirely  sleepless  after 
such  a  day.  I  was  over-tired,  and  the  coffee  would 
have  been  fatal  to  rest  in  any  case.  I  tossed  about 
restlessly  till  three  o'clock,  and  then  fell  into  a  heavy 
sleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  into  the  room,  and  I  heard  the 
voices  of  people  on  the  lawn  when  I  awoke.  "When 
I  went  down,  after  a  hurried  and  nervous  half-hour  of 
dressing,  I  found  the  morning,  apparently,  half  gone, 
and  the  breakfast- table  cleared. 

Mary  Leighton,  with  a  croquet  mallet  in  her  hand, 
was  following  Kilian  through  the  hall  to  get  a  drink 
of  water.  She  made  a  great  outcry  at  me  and  my  ap 
pearance.  • 

"What  a  headache  you  must  have,"  she  cried.' 
"  But  ah  !  think  what  you've  missed,  dear !  The' 
tutor  has  been  down  at  breakfast,  or  rather  at  the 


196  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

breakfast-table,  for  he  didn't  eat  a  thing.  He  is  a 
little  paler  than  he  was  at  dinner  day  before  yesterday — 
and  he's  gone  up-stairs ;  and  we've  voted  that  we 
hope  he'll  stay  there,  for  he  depresses  us  just  to  look 
at  him." 

And  then,  with  an  unmeaning  laugh,  she  tripped 
on  after  Kilian  to  get  that  drink  of  water,  which  was 
nothing  but  a  ticket  for  a  moment's  tete-a-tete  away 
from  the  croquet  party.  Richard  had  seen  me  by  this 
time,  and  came  in  and  asked  how  I  felt,  and  rang  the 
bell  in  the  dining-room,  and  ordered  my  breakfast 
brought.  He  did  not  exactly  stay  and  wratch  it,  but 
he  came  in  and  out  of  the  dining-room  enough  times 
to  see  that  I  had  everything  that  was  dainty  and  nice 
(and  to  see,  alas !  that  I  could  not  eat  it) ;  for  that 
piece  of  news  from  Mary  Leighton  had  levelled  me 
with  the  ground  again. 

That  I  had  missed  seeing  him  was  too  cruel,  and 
that  he  looked  so  ill ;  how  could  I  bear  it  ? 

After  my  breakfast  was  taken  away,  I  went  into 
the  hall,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  between  the  par 
lor  doors.  Pretty  soon  the  people  came  in  from  the 
croquet  ground,  talking  fiercely  about  a  game  in 
which  Kilian  and  Mary  had  been  cheating.  Charlotte 
Benson  was  quite  angry,  and  Charley,  who  had  played 
with  her,  was  enraged.  I  thought  they  were  such 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  197 

fools  to  care,  and  Richard  looked  as  if  lie  thought  they 
were  all  silly  children.  The  day  was  warm  and  close, 
such  a  contrast  to  the  day  before.  The  sudden 
cold  had  broken  down  into  a  sultry  August  atmos 
phere.  The  sun,  which  had  been  bright  an  hour  ago, 
was  becoming  obscured,  and  the  sky  was  grayish. 
Every  one  felt^  languid.  We  were  all  sitting  about 
the  hall,  idly,  when  a  servant  brought  a  note.  It 
was  an  invitation ;  that  roused  them  all — and  for  to 
day.  There  was  no  time  to  lose. 

The  Lowders  had  sent  to  ask  us  all  to  a  croquet 
party  there  at  four  o'clock. 

"  What  an  hour !"  cried  Sophie,  who  was  tired ;  "  I 
should  think  they  might  have  let  us  get  rested  from 
the  picnic." 

But  Charlotte  and  Henrietta  were  so  much  charmed 
at  the  prospect  of  seeing  so  soon  the  Frenchman  and 
the  young  devoted  Lowder,  that  they  listened  to  no 
criticism  on  the  hour  or  day. 

"  How  nice !"  they  said,  "  we  shall  get  there  a  little 
before  five — play  for  a  couple  of  hours — then  have  tea 
on  the  lawn,  perhaps — a  little  dance,  and  home  by 
moonlight."  It  was  a  ravishing  prospect  for  their 
unemployed  imaginations,  and  they  left  no  time  in 
rendering  their  answer. 

For  myself,  I  had  taken  a  firm  resolve.     I  would 


198  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

never  repeat  the  misery  of  yesterday  ;  nothing  should 
persuade  me  to  go  with  them,  but  I  would  manage 
it  so  that  I  should  be  free  from  every  one,  even 
Richard. 

Croquet  parties  are  great  occasions  for  pretty  cos 
tumes;  all  this  was  talked  over.  "What  should  I  wear? 
Oh,  my  gray  grenadine,  with  the  violet  trimmings, 
and  a  gray  hat  with  violet  velvet  and  feather. 

"You  have  everything  so  perfect  for  that  suit," 
said  Mary  Leighton,  in  a  tone  of  envy.  "  Cravat  and 
parasol  and  gloves  of  just  the  shade  of  violet." 

"  And  gray  boots,"  I  said.  "  It  is  a  pretty  suit." 
!N~o  one  but  Sophie  had  such  expensive  clothes  as  I, 
but  I  cannot  say  at  that  moment  they  made  me  very 
happy.  I  was  only  thinking  how  improbable  that 
the  gray  suit  would  come  out  of  the  box  that  day, 
unless  I  should  be  obliged  to  dress  to  mislead  the 
others  till  the  last. 

The  carriages  (for  we  filled  two),  were  to  be  at  the 
door  at  four  o'clock  punctually.  The  Lowders  were 
five  miles  away  :  the  whole  thing  was  so  talked  about 
and  planned  about,  that  when  dinner  was  over,  I  felt 
we  had  had  a  croquet  party,  and  quite  a  long  one 
at  that. 

Mr.  Langenau  did  not  come  to  dinner;  Sophie  sent 
a  servant  to  his  room  after  we  were  at  table,  to  ask 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  199 

him  if  he  would  come  down,  or  have  his  dinner  sent 
to  -him ;  but  the  servant  came  back,  saying  he  did 
not  want  any  dinner,  with  his  compliments  to  Mrs. 
Hollenbeck. 

"  A  la  bonne  lieure"  cried  Kilian.  "  A  skeleton 
always  interferes  with  my  appetite  at  a  feast." 

"It  is  the  only  thing,  then,  that  does,  isn't  it?" 
asked  Charlotte,  who  seemed  to  have  a  pick  at  him 
always. 

"  No,  not  the  only  thing.  There  is  one  other — just 
one  other." 

"  And,  for  the  sake  of  science,  what  is  that  ?" 

"  A  woman  with  a  sharp  tongue,  Miss  Charlotte. — 
Sophie,  I  don't  think  much  of  these  last  soups.  Your 
famous  cook's  degenerating,  take  my  word." 

And  so  on,  while  Charlotte  colored,  and  was  silent 
through  the  meal.  She  knew  her  tongue  was  sharp  ; 
she  knew  that  she  was  self-willed  and  was  not  humble. 
But  she  had  not  taken  herself  in  hand,  religiously ;  to 
take  one's  self  in  hand  morally,  or  on  grounds  of  ex 
pediency,  never  amounts  to  much ;  and  such  taking 
in  hand  was  all  that  Charlotte  had  as  yet  attempted. 
In  a  little  passion  of  self-reproach  and  mortification, 
she  occasionally  lopped  off  ugly  shoots ;  but  the  root 
was  still  vigorous  and  lusty,  and  only  grew  the  better 
for  its  petty  pruning.  Richard  looked  very  much 


200  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

displeased  at  Ms  brother's  rudeness,  and  tried  to  make 
up  for  it  by  great  kindness  and  attention. 

About  this  time  I  had  become  aware  of  what  were 
Sophie's  plans  for  Richard.  In  case  he  must  marry 
(to  be  cured  of  me),  he  was  to  marry  Charlotte,  who 
was  so  capable,  so  sensible,  of  so  good  family,  so 
much  indebted  to  Sophie,  and  so  decidedly  averse  to 
living  in  the  country.  Sophie  saw  herself  still  mis 
tress  here,  with,  to  be  sure,  a  shortened  income,  and 
Richard  and  his  wife  spending  a  few  weeks  with  her 
in  the  summer.  I  do  not  know  how  far  Charlotte 
entered  into  these  plans.  Probably  not  at  all,  con 
sciously;  but  I  became  aware  that,  as  a  little  girl, 
Richard  had  been  her  hero ;  and  he  did  not  seem  to 
have  been  displaced  by  any  one  entirely  yet.  But  I 
took  a  very  faint  interest  in  all  this.  I  should  have 
cared,  probably,  if  I  had  seen  Richard  devoted  to  her. 
He  seemed  to  belong  to  me,  and  I  should  have  re 
sented  any  interference  with  my  rights.  But  I  did  not 
dread  any.  I  knew,  though  I  took  little  pleasure  in 
the  knowledge,  that  he  loved  me  with  all  his  good  and 
manly  heart ;  and  it  never  seemed  a  possibility  that 
he  could  change. 

The  simple  selfishness  of  young  women  in  these 
matters  is  appalling.  Richard  was  mine  by  right  of 
conquest,  and  I  owed  him  no  gratitude  for  the  service 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  201 

of  his  life.  That  other  was  the  lord  who  had  the 
right  inalienable  over  me.  I  bent  myself  in  the  dust 
before  him.  I  would  have  taken  shame  itself  as  an 
honor  from  his  hands.  I  thought  of  him  day  and 
night.  I  filled  my  soul  writh  passionate  admiration 
for  his  good  deeds,  his  ill  deeds,  his  all.  And  the 
other  was  as  the  ground  beneath  my  feet,  of  which  I 
seldom  thought. 

Richard  met  me  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  after 
dinner,  as  I  was  going  up. 

"  Pauline,  will  you  go  in  the  carriage  with  Charlotte 
and  Sophie  ?  I  am  going  to  drive." 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  I  answered, 
with  confusion.  "  Anywhere  you  choose." 

I  think  he  had  misgivings  about  my  going  from 
that  moment ;  to  allay  which,  I  called  out  something 
about  my  costume  to  Sophie  as  I  went  up  to  my  room. 
The  day  was  growing  duller,  and  stiller,  and  grayer. 
I  sat  by  the  window  and  watched  the  leaden  river.  It 
was  like  an  afternoon  in  September,  before  the  chill 
of  the  autumn  has  come.  Not  a  leaf  moved  upon  the 
trees,  not  a  cloud  crept  over  the  sky.  It  was  all  one 
dim,  gray,  gloomy  stillness  overhead.  I  wondered  if 
they  would  have  rain.  They,  not  I,  for  I  was  going 
to  stay  at  home,  and  before  they  came  back  I  should 

have  seen  him.     I  said  that  over  and  over  to  myself 
9* 


202  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

with  bated  breath,  and  cheeks  that  burned  like  flame. 
Every  step  that  passed  my  door  made  me  start  guiltily. 
Once,  when  some  one  knocked,  I  pulled  out  my  gray 
dress,  and  flung  it  on  the  bed,  before  I  answered. 

It  was  approaching  four  o'clock.  I  undressed  my 
self  rapidly,  put  on  a  dressing-sack,  and  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed.  What  should  I  say  when  they  came 
for  me  ?  They  could  not  make  me  go.  I  felt  very 
brave.  At  last  the  carriages  drove  up  to  the  door.  I 
crept  to  the  window  to  see  if  any  one  was  ready. 
While  I  was  watching  through  the  half-closed  blinds, 
some  one  crossed  the  piazza.  My  heart  gave  a  great 
leap,  and  then  every  pulse  stood  still.  It  was  Mr. 
Langenau.  His  step  was  slower  than  it  used  to  be, 
and,  I  thought,  a  little  faltering.  He  crossed  the  road, 
and  took  the  path  that  led  through  the  grove  and  gar 
den  to  the  river.  He  had  a  book  under  his  arm ; 
he  must  be  going  to  the  boat-house  to  sit  there  and 
read.  My  heart  gave  such  an  ecstasy  of  life  to  my 
veins  at  the  thought,  that  for  a  moment  I  felt  sick  and 
faint,  as  I  drew  back  from  the  window. 

I  threw  myself  on  the  bed  as  some  one  knocked. 
It  was  a  servant  to  tell  me  they  were  ready.  I  sent 
word  to  Mrs.  Hollenbeck  that  I  was  not  well,  and 
should  not  be  able  to  go  with  them.  Then  I  lay  still 
and  waited  in  much  trepidation  for  the  second  knock. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  203 

I  heard  in  a  few  moments  the  rustle  of  Sophie's  dress 
outside.  She  was  not  pleased  at  all.  She  could 
scarcely  be  polite.  But  then  everything  looked  very 
plausible.  There  lay  my  dress  upon  the  bed,  as  if  I 
had  begun  to  dress,  and  I  was  pale  and  trembling, 
and  *I  am  sure  must  have  looked  ill  enough  to  have 
convinced  her  that  I  spoke  the  truth. 

She  made  some  feeble  offer  to  stay  and  take  care  of 
me.  "  Oh,  pray  don't,"  I  cried,  too  eagerly,  I  am 
afraid.  And  then  she  said  her  maid  should  come  and 
stay  with  me,  for  the  children  were  going  with  them, 
and  there  would  be  nothing  for  her  to  do.  I  stam 
mered  thanks,  and  then  she  went  away.  I  did  not 
dare  to  move  till  after  I  had  heard  both  carriages 
drive  off,  and  all  voices  die  away  in  the  distance. 

Bettina  came  to  the  door,  and  was  sent  away  with 
thanks.  Then  I  began  to  dress  myself  with  very 
trembling  hands.  This  was  new  work  to  me,  this 
horrible  deception.  But  all  remorse  for  that,  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  one  engrossing  thought  and 
desire  which  had  usurped  my  soul  for  the  days  just 


It  was  a  full  half-hour  before  I  was  ready,  my  hands 
shook  so  unaccountably,  and  I  could  scarcely  find  the 
things  I  wanted  to  put  on.  "When  I  went  to  the 
door  I  could  hardly  turn  the  key,  I  felt  so  weak,  and 


204:  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  stood  in  the  passage  many  minutes  before  I  dared  go 
on.  If  any  one  had  appeared  or  spoken  to  me,  I  am 
quite  sure  I  should  have  fainted,  my  nerves  were  in 
such  a  shaken  state. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

AUGUST   THIRTIETH. 

Were  Death  so  unlike  Sleep, 

Caught  this  way  ?    Death's  to  fear  from  flame,  or  steel, 
Or  poison  doubtless ;  but  from  water— feel ! 

Robert  Browning. 

I  MET  no  one  in  the  hall  or  on  the  piazza.  The 
house  was  silent  -and  deserted :  one  of  the  maids  was 
closing  the  parlor  windows.  She  did  not  look  at  me 
with  any  surprise,  for  she  had  not  probably  heard  that 
I  was  ill. 

Once  in  the  open  air  I  felt  stronger.  I  took  the 
river-path,  and  walked  quickly,  feeling  freed  from  a 
nightmare :  and  my  mind  was  filled  with  one  thought. 
"  In  a  few  moments  I  shall  be  beside  him,  I  shall 
make  him  look  at  me,  he  cannot  help  but  touch  my 
hand."  C  did  not  think  of  past  or  future,  only  of  the 
greedy,  passionate  present.  My  infatuation  was  at  its 
height.  I  cannot  imagine  a  passion  more  absorbing, 
more  unresisted,  and  more  dangerous.  I  passed  quickly 
through  the  garden  without  even  noticing  the  flowers 
that  brushed  against  my  dress. 


206  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

As  I  reached  the  grove  I  thought  for  one  instant 
of  the  morning  that  he  hadmet  me  here,  just  where 
the  paths  intersected.  At  that  moment  I  heard  a 
step;  and  full  of  that  hope,  with  a  quick  thrill,  I 
glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  There,  not 
ten  tyards  from  me,  coming  from  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  was  Richard.  I  felt  a  shock  of  disappointment, 
then  fear,  then  anger.  What  right  had  he  to  dog  me 
so  ?  He  looked  at  me  without  surprise,  but  as  if 
his  heart  was  full  of  bitterness  and  sorrow.  He  ap 
proached,  and  turned  as  if  to  walk  with  me. 

"  I  want  to  be  alone,"  I  said  angrily,  moving  away 
from  him. 

"No,  Pauline,"  he  answered  with  a  sigh,  as  he 
turned  from  me,  "  you  do  not  want  to  be  alone." 

Full  of  shame  and  anger,  and  jarred  with  the  shock 
and  fear,  I  went  on  more  slowly.  The  wood  was  so 
silent — the  river  through  the  trees  lay  so  still  and 
leaden.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  fire  burning  in  my 
heart,  I  could  have  thought  the  world  was  dead. 

There  was  not  a  sound  but  my  own  step^;  should 
I  soon  meet  him,  would  he  be  sitting  in  his  old  seat 
by  the  boat-house  door,  or  would  he  be  wandering 
along  the  dead,  still  river-bank  ?  What  should  I  say 
to  him  ?  O  !  he  would  speak.  If  he  saw  me  he  would 
have  to  speak. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  207 

I  soon  forgot  that  I  had  met  Richard,  that  1  had 
been  angry ;  and  again  I  had  but  this  one  thought. 

The  pine  cones  were  slippery  under  my  feet.  I 
held  by  the  old  trees  as  I  went  down  the  bank,  step 
by  step.  I  had  to  turn  and  pass  a  clump  of  trees 
before  I  reached  the  boat-house  door. 

I  was  there !  "With  a  beating  heart  I  stepped  up  on 
the  threshold.  There  were  two  doors,  one  that  opened 
on  the  path,  one  that  opened  on  the  river.  The  house 
was  empty.  I  had  a  little  sinking  pang  of  disappoint 
ment,  but  I  passed  on  to  the  door  looking  out  on  the 
river.  By  this  door  was  a  seat,  empty,  but  on  this 
lay  a  book  and  a  straw  hat.  I  could  feel  the  hot 
blushes  cover  my  face,  my  neck,  as  I  caught  sight  of 
these.  I  stooped  down,  feeling  guilty,  and  took  up 
the  book.  It  was  a  book  which  he  had  read  daily  to 
me  in  our  lesson-hours.  It  had  his  name  on  the  blank 
page,  and  was  full  of  his  pencil-marks.  I  meant  to 
ask  him  to  give  me  this  book  ;  I  would  rather  have  it 
than  anything  the  world  held,  when  I  should  be  parted 
from  him.  When  !  I  sat  down  on  the  seat  beside  the 
door,  ivith  the  book  lying  in  my  lap,  the  straw  hat 
on  the  bench.  I  longed  to  take  it  in  my  hands — to 
wreathe  it  with  the  clematis  that  grew  about  the  door, 
as  I  had  done  one  foolish,  happy  afternoon,  not  three 
weeks  ago.  But  with  a  strange  inconsistency,  I 


208  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

dared  not  touch  it ;  my  face  grew  hot  with  blushes 
as  I  thought  of  it. 

How  should  I  meet  him  ?  !N"ow  that  the  moment  I 
had  longed  for  had  arrived,  I  wondered  that  I  had 
dared  to  long  for  it.  I  felt  that  if  I  heard  his  step,  I 
should  fly  and  hide  myself  from  him.  The  recollec 
tion  of  that  last  interview  in  the  library — which  I  had 
lived  over  and  over,  nights  and  days,  incessantly,  since 
then,  came  back  with  fresh  force,  fresh  vehemence. 
But  no  step  approached  me,  all  was  silent ;  it  began 
to  impress  me  strangely,  and  I  looked  about  me.  I 
don't  know  at  what  moment  it  was,  my  eye  fell  upon 
the  trace  of  footsteps  on  the  bank,  and  then  on  the 
mark  of  the  boat  dragged  along  the  sand ;  a  little 
below  the  boat-house  it  had  been  pushed  off  into  the 
water. 

I  started  to  my  feet,  and  ran  down  to  the  water's 
edge  (at  the  boat-house  the  trees  had  been  in  the  way 
of  my  seeing  the  river  any  distance). 

I  stood  still,  the  water  lapping  faintly  on  the  sand 
at  my  feet ;  it  was  hardly  a  sound.  I  looked  out  on 
the  unruffled  lead-colored  river :  there,  about  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  the  bank,  the  boat  was  lying :  empty 
— motionless.  The  oars  were  floating  a  few  rods 
from  her,  drifting  slowly,  slowly,  down  the  stream. 

The   sight   seemed  to  turn  my  warm   blood   and 


RIGHAED  VANDERMARCK.  209 

blushes  into  ice:  even  before  I  had  a  distinct 
impression  of  what  I  feared,  I  was  benumbed.  But 
it  did  not  take  many  moments  for  the  truth,  or  a 
dread  of  it,  to  reach  my  brain. 

I  covered  my  eyes  with  my  hands,  then  sprang  up 
the  bank  and  called  wildly. 

My  voice  was  like  a  madwoman's,  and  it  must 
have  sounded  far  on  that  still  air.  In  less  than  a 
moment  Richard  came  hurrying  with  great  strides 
down  the  path.  I  sprang  to  him,  and  caught  his  arm 
and  dragged  him  to  the  water's  edge. 

"  Look,"  I  whispered — pointing  to  the  hat  and  book 
— and  then  out  to  the  boat.     I  read  his  face  in  terror. 
It  grew  slowly,  deadly  white. 

"  My  God ! "  he  said  in  a  tone  of  awe.  Then 
shaking  me  from  him,  sprang  up  the  bank,  and  his 
voice  was  something  fearful  as  he  shouted,  as  he  ran, 
for  help. 

There  were  men  laboring,  two  or  three  fields  off. 
I  don't  know  how  long  it  took  them  to  get  to  him, 
nor  how  long  to  get  a  boat  out  on  the  water,  nor 
what  boat  it  was.  I  know  they  had  ropes  and  poles, 
and  that  they  were  talking  in  eager,  hurried  voices, 
as  they  passed  me. 

I  sat  on  the  steps  that  led  down  the  bank,  clinging 
to  the k low  railing  with  my  hands:  I  had  sunk  down 


210  RICHARD 'VANDERMARCK. 

because  my  strength  had  given  way  all  at  once,  and  I 
felt  as  if  everything  were  rocking  and  surging  under 
me.  Sometimes  everything  was  black  before  me,  and 
then  again  I  could  see  plainly  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
river,  the  wide  expanse  of  the  gray  sky,  and  between 
them — the  empty,  motionless  boat,  and  the  floating 
oars  beyond  upon  the  tide. 

The  voices  of  the  men,  and  the  splashing  of  the 
water,  when  at  last  they  were  launched  and  pulling 
away  from  shore,  made  a  ringing,  frightful  noise  in 
niy  head.  I  watched  till  I  saw  them  reach  the  boat 
— till  I  saw  one  of  them  get  over  in  it.  Then  while 
they  groped  about  with  ropes  and  poles,  and  lashed 
their  boats  together,  and  leaned  over  and  gazed 
down  into  the  water,  I  watched  in  a  strange,  be 
numbed  state. 

But,  by-and-by,  there  were  some  exclamations — a 
stir,  and  effort  of  strength.  I  saw  them  pulling  in  the 
ropes  with  combined  movement.  I  saw  them  leaning 
over  the  side  of  the  boat,  nearest  the  shore,  and 
together  trying  to  lift  something  heavy  over  into  it. 
I  saw  the  water  dripping  as  they  raised  it — and  then 
I  think  I  must  have  swooned.  For  I  knew  nothing 
further  till  I  heard  Richard's  voice,  and,  raising  my 
head,  saw  him  leaping  from  the  boat  upon  the  bank. 
The  other  boat  was  further  out,  and  was  approaching 


KICHARV  VANDERMARCK. 

slowly.  I  stood  up  as  he  came  to  me,  and  held  by 
the  railing. 

"  I  want  yon  to  go  up  to  the  house,"  he  said,  gently, 
"  there  can  be  no  good  in  your  staying  here." 

"  I  will  stay,"  I  cried,  everything  coming  back  to 
me.  "  I  will — will  see  him." 

"  There  is  no  hope,  Pauline,"  he  said,  in  a  quick 
voice,  for  the  boat  was  very  near  the  bank,  "  or  very 
little — and  you  must  not  stay.  Everything  shall  be 
done  that  can  be  done.  I  will  do  all.  '  But  you  must 
not  stay." 

"I  will,"  I  said,  frantically,  trying  to  burst  past 
him.  He  caught  my  arms  and  turned  me  toward  the 
boat-house, -and  led  me  through  it,  out  into  the  path 
that  went  up  to  the  grove. 

"  Go  home,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  I  never  shall  for 
get.  "  You  shall  not  make  a  spectacle  for  these  men. 
I  have  promised  you  I  will  do  all.  Mind  you  obey 
me  strictly,  and  go  up  to  your  room  and  wait  there 
till  I  come." 

I  don't  know  how  I  got  there.  I  believe  Bettina 
found  me  at  the  entrance  to  the  garden,  and  helped 
me  to  the  house,  and  put  me  on  my  bed. 

An  hour  passed — perhaps  more — and  such  an  hour ! 
(for  I  was  not  for  a  moment  unconscious,  after  this, 
only  deadly  faint  and  weak),  and  then  Richard  came. 


212  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

The  door  was  a  little  open,  and  lie  pushed  it  back  and 
came  in,  and  stood  beside  the  bed. 

I  suppose  the  sight  of  me,  so  broken  and  spoiled  by 
suffering,  overcame  him,  for  he  stooped  down  sud 
denly,  and  kissed  me,  and  then  did  not  speak  for  a 
moment. 

At  last  he  said,  in  a  voice  not  quite  steady,  "  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  hard  on  you,  Pauline.  But  you 
know  I  had  to  do  it." 

"And  there  isn't  any — any—  '  I  gasped  for  the 
words,  and  could  hardly  speak. 

"  ]STo,  none,  Pauline,"  he  said,  keeping  my  hand  in 
his.  "  The  doctors  have  just  gone  away.  It  was  all 
no  use." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  I  whispered. 

"  About  what  ?"  he  said,  looking  troubled. 

"  About  how  it  happened." 

"  Nobody  can  tell,"  he  answered,  averting  his  face. 
"  We  can  only  conjecture  about  some  things.  Don't 
try  to  think  about  it.  Try  to  rest." 

"  How  does  he  look  ?"  I  whispered,  clinging  to  his 
hand. 

"  Just  the  same  as  ever ;  more  quiet,  perhaps,"  he 
answered,  looking  troubled. 

I  gave  a  sort  of  gasp,  but  did  not  cry.  I  think  he 
was  frightened,  for  he  said,  uneasily, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  213 

"  Let  me  call  Bettina ;  she  can  give  you  something — • 
she  can  sit  beside  you." 

I  shook  my  head,  and  said,  faintly,  "  Don't  let  her 
come." 

"I  have  sent  for  Sophie,"  he  said,  soothingly. 
u  She  will  soon  be  here,  and  will  know  what  to  do  for 
you." 

"  Keep  her  out  of  this  room,"  I  cried,  half  raising 
myself,  and  then  falling  back  from  sudden  faintness. 
"  Don't  let  her  come  near  me,"  I  panted,  after  a  mo 
ment,  "  nor  any  of  them,  but,  most  of  all,  Sophie ; 
remember — don't  let  her  even  look  at  me ;"  and  with 
moaning,  I  turned  my  face  down  on  the  pillow.  I  had 
taken  in  about  a  thousandth  fraction  of  my  great  ca 
lamity  by  that  time.  Every  moment  was  giving  to 
me  some  additional  possession  of  it. 

Some  one  at  that  instant  called  Richard,  in  that 
subdued  tone  that  people  use  about  a  house  in  which 
there  is  one  dead. 

"  I  have  got  to  go,"  he  said,  uneasily.  I  still  kept 
hold  of  his  hand.  "  But  I  will  come  back  before  very 
long ;  and  I  will  tell  Bettina  to  bring  a  chair  and  sit 
outside  your  door,  and  not  let  any  one  come  in." 

"  That  will  do,"  I  said,  letting  go  his  hand,  "  only  I 
don't  want  my  door  shut  tight." 

I  felt  as  if  the  separation  were  not  so  entire,  so  tre- 


214  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

mendous,  while  I  could  hear  what  was  going  on  below, 
and  know  that  no  door  was  shut  between  us — no 
door !  Bettina,  in  a  moment  more,  had  taken  up  her 
station  in  the  passage-way  outside. 

I  heard  people  coming  and  going  quietly  through 
the  hall  below.  ,  I  heard  doors  softly  shut  and  opened. 

I  knew,  by  some  intuition,  that  he  was  lying  in  the 
library.  They  moved  furniture  with  a  smothered 
sound ;  and  when  I  heard  two  or  three  men  sent  off 
on  messages  by  Eichard,  even  the  horses'  hoofs  seemed 
to  be  muffled  as  they  struck  the  ground.  This  was 
the  effect  of  the  coming  in  of  death  into  busy,  house 
hold  life.  I  had  never  been  under  the  roof  with  it 

before. 

< 

About  dusk  a  servant  came  to  the  door,  with  a  tray 
of  tea  and  something  to  eat,  that  Mr.  Richard  had 
sent  her  with. 

"  No,"  I  said,  «  don't  leave  it  here." 

But,  in  a  few  moments,  Richard  himself  brought  it 
back.  I  can  well  imagine  how  anxious  and  unhappy 
he  felt.  He  had,  perhaps,  never  before  had  charge  of 
any  one  ill  or  in  trouble,  and  this  was  a  strange  expe 
rience. 

"  You  must  eat  something,  Pauline,"  he  said.  "  I 
want  you  to.  Sit  up,  and  take  this  tea." 

I  was  not  inclined  to  dispute  his  will,  but  raised  my 


EICHAED  VANDERMARCK  215 

head,  and  drank  the  tea,  and  ate  a  few  mouthfuls  of 
the  biscuit.  But  that  made  me  too  ill,  and  I  put  the 
plate  away  from  me. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  I  said,  meekly,  "  but  1  can't 
eat  it.  I  feel  as  if  it  choked  me." 

He  seemed  touched  with  my  submissiveness,  and, 
giving  Bettina  the  tray,  stood  looking  down  at  me  as 
if  he  did  not  know  how  to  say  something  that  was  in 
his  mind.  Suddenly  my  ear,  always  quick,  now  ex 
aggeratedly  so,  caught  sound  of  carriage-wheels.  I 
started  up  and  cried,  "  They  are  coming,"  and  hid  my 
face  in  my  hands. 

"Don't  be  troubled,"  he  said,  "you  shall  not  be 
disturbed." 

"  Oh,  Kichard,"  I  exclaimed,  as  he  was  going  away, 
after  another  undecided  movement  as  if  to  speak, 
"you  know  what  I  want." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  now  they're  come,  I  cannot.  They  will  see 
him,  and  I  cannot." 

"  Be  patient.  I  will  arrange  for  you  to  go.  Don't, 
don't,  Pauline.'3 

For  I  was  in  a  sort  of  spasm,  though  no  tears  came, 
and  my  sobs  were  more  like  the  gasps  of  a  person 
being  suffocated,  than  like  one  in  grief. 

"  If  you  will  only  be  quiet,  I  will  take  you  down, 


216  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

after  a  few  hours,  when  they  are  all  gone  to  their 
rooms.  Pauline,  you'll  kill  me  ;  don't  do  so — Pauline, 
they'll  hear  you.  Try  not  to  do  so ;  that's  right — lie 
down  and  try  to  quiet  yourself,  poor  child.  I  can't 
bear  to  go  away  ;  but  there  is  Sophie  on  the  stairs." 

He  had  scarcely  time  to  reach  the  hall  before  Sophie 
burst  upon  him  with  almost  a  shriek. 

"What  is  this  horrible  affair,  Richard?  What  a 
terrible  disgrace  and  s,candal !  we  never  shall  get  over 
it.  Will  it  get  in  the  papers,  do  you  think  ?  I  am 
so  ill — I  have  been  in  such  a  state  since  the  news  came. 
Such  a  drive  home. as  this  has  been!  Oh,  Richard, 
tell  me  all  about  it  quickly.  Where  is  Pauline  ?  how 
does  she  bear  it  ?"  making  for  my  door. 

Richard  put  out  his  hand  and  stopped  her.  I  had 
sprung  up  from  the  bed,  and  stood,  trembling  vio 
lently,  at  the  further  extremity  of  the  room.  I  do 
not  know  what  I  meant  to  do  if  she  came  in,  for  I 
was  almost  beside  myself  at  that  moment. 

She  was  persistent,  angry,  agitated.  How  well  I 
knew  the  curiosity  that  made  her  so  intent  to  gain 
admission  to  me.  It  was  not  so  much  that  I  dreaded 
being  a  spectacle,  as  the  horror  and  hatred  I  felt  at 
being  approached  by  her  coldness  and  hypocrisy,  while 
I  was  so  sore  and  wounded.  I  was  hardly  responsible ; 
I  don't  think  I  could  have  borne  the  touch  of  her  hand. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

But  Richard  saved  me,  and  sent  her  away  angry. 
I  crept  back  to  the  bed,  and  lay  down  on  it  again.  I 
heard  the  others  whispering  as  they  passed  through 
the  hall.  Mary  Leighton  was  crying  ;  Charlotte  was 
silent.  I  don't  think  I  heard  her  voice  at  all. 

After  a  long  while  I  heard  them  go  down,  and  go 
into  the  dining-room.  They  spoke  in  very  subdued 
tones,  and  there  was  only  the  slightest  movement  of 
china  and  silver,  to  indicate  that  a  meal  was  going  on. 
But  this  seemed  to  give  me  a  more  frantic  sense  of 
change  than  anything  else.  I  flung  myself  across  the 
bed,  and  another  of  those  dreadful,  tearless  spasms 
seized  me.  Everything — all  life — was  going  on  just 
the  same ;  even  in  this  very  house  they  were  eating 
and  drinking  as  they  ate  and  drank  before — the  very 
people  who  had  talked  with  him  this  day ;  the  very 
table  at  which  he  had  sat  this  morning.  Oh !  they  were 
so  heartless  and  selfish  :  every  one  was ;  life  itself  wras. 
I  did  not  know  where  to  turn  for  comfort.  I  had  a 
feeling  of  dreading  every  one,  of  shrinking  away  from 
every  one. 

"  Oh ! "  I  said  to  myself,  "  if  Richard  is  with  them 
at  the  table,  I  never  want  to  see  him  again." 

But  Richard  was  not  with  them.  In  a  moment  or 
two  he  came  to  the  door,  only  to  ask  me  if  I  wanted 

anything,  and  to  say  he  would  come  back  by-and-by. 

10 


218  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

There  was  a  question  which.  I  longed  so  frantically 
to  ask  him,  but  which  I  dared  not ;  my  life  seemed  to 
hang  on  the  answer.  When  were  they  going  to  take 
him  away  f  I  had  heard  something  about  trains  and 
carriages,  and  I  had  a  wild  dread  that  it  was  soon 
to  be. 

I  went  to  the  door  and  called  Richard  back,  and 
made  him  understand  what  I  wanted  to  know.  He 
looked  troubled,  and  said  in  a  low  tone, 

"At  four  o'clock  we  go  from  here  to  meet  the 
earliest  train.  I  have  telegraphed  his  friends,  and 
have  had  an  answer.  I  am  going  down  myself,  and 
it  is  all  arranged  in  the  best  way,  I  think.  Go  and  lie 
down  now,  Pauline ;  I  will  come  and  take  you  down 
soon  as  the  house  is  quiet." 

Richard  went  away  unconscious  of  the  stab  his  news 
had  given  me.  I  had  not  counted  on  anything  so 
sudden  as  this  parting.  While  he  was  in  the  house, 
while  I  was  again  to  look  upon  his  face,  the  end  had 
not  come ;  there  was  a  sort  of  hope,  though  only  a  hope 
of  suffering,  something  to  look  forward  to,  before 
black  monotony  began  its  endless  day. 


CHAPTEK  XVII. 

BESIDE    HIM    ONCE   AGAIN. 

There  are  blind  ways  provided,  the  foredone 
Heart-weary  player  in  this  pageant  world 
Drops  out  by,  letting  the  main  masque  defile 
By  the  conspicuous  portal. 

JR.  Browning. 

What  is  this  world  ?  What  asken  men  to  have  ? 
Now  with  his  love— now  in  his  cold  grave— 
Alone,  withouten  any  companie ! 

Chaucer. 

THE  tall  old  clock,  which  stood  by  the  dining-room 
door,  had  struck  two,  and  been  silent  many  minutes, 
before  Richard  came  to  me.  I  had  spent  those  dread 
ful  hours  in  feverish  restlessness :  my  room  seemed 
suffocating  to  me.  I  had  walked  about,  had  put 
away  my  trinkets,  I  had  changed  my  dress,  and  put 
on  a  white  one  which  I  had  worn  in  the  morning,  and 
had  tried  to  braid  my  hair. 

The  quieting  of  the  house,  it  seemed,  would  never 
come.  It  was  twelve  o'clock  before  any  one  came  up- 
btairs.  I  heard  one  door  after  another  shut,  and  then 
sat  waiting  and  wondering  why  Richard  did  not  come, 


220  RICHARD  VANDERMARCE. 

till  the  moments  seemed  to  grow  to  centuries.  At 
last  I  heard  him  at  the  door,  and  I  went  toward  it 
trembling,  and*  folio  wed  him  into  the  hall.  He  carried 
a  light,  for  up-stairs  it  was  all  dark,  and  when  we 
reached  the  stairway,  he  took  my  hand  to  lead 
me.  I  was  trembling  very  much  ;  the  hall  below  was 
dimly  lit  by  a  large  lamp  which  had  been  turned  low. 
Our  steps  on  the  bare  staircase  made  so  much  noise, 
though  we  tried  to  move  so  silently.  It  was  weird 
and  awful.  I  clung  to  Richard's  hand  in  silence. 
He  led  me  across  the  hall,  and  stopped  before  the 
library-door.  He  let  go  my  hand,  and  taking  a  key 
from  his  pocket,  put  it  in  the  lock,  turned  it  slowly, 
then  opened  the  door  a  little  way,  and  motioned  me 
to  enter. 

Like  one  in  a  trance,  I  obeyed  him,  and  went  in 
alone.  He  shut  the  door  noiselessly,  and  left  me  with 
the  dead. 

That  was  the  great,  the  immense  hour  of  my  life. 
No  vicissitude,  no  calamity  of  this  mortal  state,  no-ex 
perience  that  may  be  to  come,  can  ever  have  the  force, 
the  magnitude  of  this.  All  feelings,  but  a  child's 
feelings,  were  comparatively  new  to  me,  and  here,  at 
one  moment,  I  had  put  into  my  hand  the  plummet 
that  sounded  hell ;  anguish,  remorse,  fear — a 
woman's  heart  in  hopeless  pain.  For  I  will  not  be- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  221 

lieve  that  any  child,  that  any  woman,  had  ever  loved 
more  absolutely,  more  passionately,  than  I  had  loved 
the  man  who  lay  there  dead  before  me.  But  I  can 
not  talk  about  what  I  felt  in  those  moments  ;  all  that 
concerns  what  I  write  is  the  external. 

The — coffin  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  where 
the  table  ordinarily  stood — where  my  chair  had  been 
that  night,  when  he  told  me  his  story.  Surely  if  I 
sinned,  in  thought,  in  word,  that  night,  I  paid  its  full 
atonement,  this.  Candles  stood  on  a  small  table  at 
the  head  of  where  he  lay,  and  many  flowers  were 
about  the  room.  The  smell  of  verbena-leaves  filled 
the  air :  a  branch  of  them  was  in  a  vase  that  some  one 
had  put  beside  his  coffin.  The  fresh,  cool  night-air 
came  in  from  the  large  window,  open  at  the  top. 

His  face  was,  as  Richard  said,  much  as  in  life,  only 
quieter.  I  do  not  know  what  length  of  time  Richard 
left  me  there,  but  at  last,  I  was  recalled  to  the  present, 
by  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  and  his  voice  in  a 
whisper,  "  Come  with  me  now,  Pauline." 

I  rose  to  my  feet,  hardly  understanding  what  he 
said,  but  resisted  when  I  did  understand  him. 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  said,  gently,  "  You  shall  come 
back  again  and  say  good-bye.  Only  come  out  into  the 
hall  and  stay  awhile  with  me ;  it  is  not  good  for  you 
to  be  here  so  long." 


222  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

He  took  rny  hand  and  led  me  out,  shutting  the 
door  noiselessly.  He  took  me  across  the  hall,  and 
into  the  parlor,  where  there  was  no  light,  except  what 
came  in  from  the  hall.  There  was  a  sofa  opposite  the 
door,  and  to  that  he  led  me,  standing  himself  before 
me,  with  his  perplexed  and  careworn  face.  I  was 
very  silent  for  some  time :  all  that  awful  time  in  the 
library,  I  had  never  made  a  sound :  but  suddenly, 
some  thought  came  that  reached  the  source  of  my 
tears,  and  I  burst  into  a  passion  of  weeping.  I  am 
not  sure  what  it  was :  I  think,  perhaps,  the  sight  of 
the  piano,  and  the  recollection  of  that  magnificent 
voice  that  would  never  be  heard  again.  "Whatever  it 
was,  I  bless  it,  for  I  think  it  saved  my  brain.  I 
threw  myself  down  upon  the  sofa,  and  clung  to 
Richard's  hand,  and  sobbed,  and  sobbed,  and  sobbed. 

Poor  fellow !  my  tears  seemed  to  shake  him  terribly. 
Once  he  turned  away,  and  drew  his  hand  across  his 
brow,  as  if  it  were  a  little  more  than  he  could  bear. 
But  some  men,  like  many  women,  are  born  to  sacri 
fice. 

He  tried  to  comfort  and  soothe  me  with  broken 
words.  But  what  was  there  to  say  ? 

"  Oh,  Richard,"  I  cried,  "  What  does  it  all  mean  ? 
why  am  I  so  punished  ?  was  it  so  very  wicked  to  have 
loved  him  after  I  knew  all  2  Was  all  this  allowed  to 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  223 

come  because  I  did  that  ?  Answer  me,  tell  me ;  tell 
me  what  you  think." 

"JSTo,  Pauline,  I  don't  think  that  was  it.  Don't 
talk  about  it  now.  Try  to  be  quiet.  You  are  not  fit 
to  think  about  it  now." 

"  But,  Richard,  what  else  can  it  mean  ?  I  know,  I 
know  that  it  is  the  truth.  God  wouldn't  have  sent  such 
a  punishment  upon  me  if  he  hadn't  seen  my  sin." 

"  It's  more  likely  He  sent  it  to "  and  then  he 

paused. 

I  know  now  he  meant,  it  was  more  likely  He  had 
sent  it  to  save  me  from  the  sins  of  others ;  but  he  had 
the  holy  charity  not  to  say  it. 

"Oh,"  I  cried,  passionately,  "When  a]l  the  sin  was 
mine,  that  he  should  have  had  to  die :  when  he  never 
'came  near  me,  never  looked  at  me :  when  he  would 
rather  die  than  break  his  word  to  me.  That  night  in 
the  library,  after  he  had  told  me  all,  he  said,  <  I  will 
never  look  into  your  eyes  again,  I  will  never  touch 
your  hand ;'  and  though  we  were  in  the  same  room 
together  after  that,  and  in  the  same  house  all  this 
time,  and  though  he  knew  I  loved  him  so — he  never 
looked  at  me,  he  never  turned  his  eyes  upon  me ; 
and  I — I  was  willing  to  sin  for  him — to  die  for  him. 
I  would  have  followed  him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
not  twelve  hours  ago." 


224  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"Hush,  Pauline,"  said  Kichard  huskily,  "you 
don't  know  what  you're  saying — you  are  a 
child." 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  child — after  to-day,  after  to-night 
— I  am  not  a  child — and  I  know  too  well  what  I  say 
— too  well — too  well.  Richard,  you  don't  know  what 
has  been  in  my  heart.  That  night,  he  held  me  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  me — when  he  said  good-bye. 
Then  I  was  innocent,  for  I  was  dazed  by  grief  and 
had  not  come  to  my  senses,  after  what  he  told  me. 
But  to-day  I  said — to-day — to  have  his  arms  around 
me  once  again — to  have  him  kiss  me  once  again  as 
he  kissed  me  then — I  would  go  away  from  all  I  ever 
had  been  taught  of  right  and  duty,  and  would  be 
satisfied." 

"  Then,  thank  God  for  what  has  come,"  said  Richard, 
hoarsely,  wiping  from  his  forehead  the  great  drops 
that  had  broken  out  upon  it. 

"  No  ! "  I  cried  with  a  fresh  burst  of  weeping. 
"  No,  I  cannot  thank  God,  for  I  want  him  back  again. 
I  want  him.  I  had  rather  die  than  be  separated  from 
him.  I  cannot  thank  God  for  taking  him  away  from 
me.  Oh,  Richard,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  loved  him, 
loved  him  so.  Don't  look  so  stern ;  don't  turn  away 
from  me.  You  used  to  love  me.  Could  you  thank 
God  for  taking  me  away  from  you,  out  of  your  arms, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCE.  225 

warm,  and  strong,  and  living,  and  making  me  cold, 
and  dumb,  and  stiff,  like  that  f  " 

"  Yes,  Pauline,  if  it  had  been  to  save  us  both  from 
sin." 

<c  You  don't  know  what  love  is,  if  you  say  that." 

"  I  know  what  sin  is,  better  than  you  do,  maybe. 
Listen,  Pauline.  I've  loved  you  ever  since  I  saw  you ; 
men  don't  often  love  better  than  I  have  loved  you ; 
but  I'd  rather  drag  you,  to-night,  to  that  black  river 
there,  and  hold  you  down  with  my  own  hands  till  the 
breath  left  your  body,  than  see  you  turn  into  a  sinful 
woman,  and  lead  the  life  of  shame  you  tell  me  you 
had  it  in  your  heart  to  lead,  to-day." 

"  Is  it  so  very  awful  ? "  I  whispered  with  a  shiver, 
my  own  emotion  stilled  before  his.  "I  only  loved 
him!" 

"  Forget  you  ever  did,"  he  said,  rising,  and  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room. 

I  put  my  hands  before  my  face,  and  felt  as  if  I  were 
alone  in  the  world  with  sin.  If  this  unspoken,  pas 
sionate,  sweet  thought,  that  I  had  harbored,  were  so 
full  of  danger  as  to  force  God  to  blast  me  with  such 
punishment,  as  to  drive  this  tender,  generous,  loving 
man  to  wish  me  dead,  what  must  be  the  blackness  of 
the  sin  from  which  I  had  been  saved,  if  I  were  saved  ? 

If  there  were,  indeed,  anything  but  shocks  of  woe  and 
'  10* 


226  RICHARD  VA2TDERMARCK 

punishment,  and  deadly  despair  and  darkness,  in  this 
strange  world  in  which  I  found  myself.  There  was  a 
silence.  I  rose  to  my  feet.  I  don't  know  what  I 
meant  to  do  or  where  to  go  ;  my  only  impulse  was  to 
hide  myself  from  the  eyes  of  my  companion,  and  to  go 
away  from  him,  as  I  had  hidden  myself  from  all  others, 
since  I  was  smitten  with  this  chastisement. 

"  Forgive  me,  Pauline,"  he  said,  coming  to  my  side. 
"It  is  the  second  time  I  have  been  harsh  with  you 
this  dreadful  day.  This  is  what  comes  of  selfishness. 
I  hope  you  will  forget  what  I  have  said." 

I  still  turned  to  go  away,  feeling  afraid  of  him  and 
ashamed  before  him.  He  put  out  his  hand  to  stop 


"  Pauline,  remember,  I  have  been  sorely  tried.  I 
would  do  anything  to  comfort  you.  I  haven't  an 
other  wish  in  my  heart  but  to  be  of  use  to  you." 

"  Oh,  Richard,"  I  cried,  bursting  into  tears  afresh, 
and  hiding  my  eyes,  "  if  you  give  me  up  and  drive  me 
away  from  you,  I  am  all  alone.  There  isn't  another 
human  being  that  I  love  or  that  cares  for  me.  Dear 
Richard,  do  be  good  to  me  ;  do  be  sorry  for  me." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Pauline  ;  you  know  that." 

"  And  you  will  take  care  of  me  ??'  I  cried,  stretching 
out  my  arms  toward  him,  with  a  sudden  overwhelm 
ing  sense  of  my  loneliness  and  destitution. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  227 

"  Yes,  Pauline,  to  the  end  of  my  life  or  of  yours  ;  as 
if  you  were  my  sister  or  almost  my  child." 

"  Dear  Richard,"  I  whispered,  as  I  buried  my  face 
on  his  arm,  "  if  it  were  not  for  you  I  should  not  live 
through  this  dreadful  time.  I  hope  I  shall  die  soon  ; 
as  soon  as  I  am  better.  But  till  I  do  die,  I  hope  you 
will  be  good  to  me,  and  love  me."  And  I  pressed  his 
hand  against  my  cheek  and  lips,  like  the  poor,  frantic, 
grief-bewildered  child  that  I  was. 

At  this  moment  there  came  a  sound  of  movement 
in  the  stables :  I  heard  one  of  the  heavy  doors  thrown 
open,  and  a  man  leading  a  horse  across  the  stable- 
floor.  (The  windows  were  open  and  the  night  was 
very  still.)  Eichard  started,  and  looked  uneasily  at  his 
watch,  stepping  to  the  door  to  get  the  light. 

"  How  late  is  it  ?"  I  faltered. 

"  Half-past  three,"  he  said,  turning  his  eyes  away,  as 
if  he  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  my  face.  I  do  not 
like  to  remember  the  dreadful  moments  that  followed 
this:  the  misery  that  I  put  upon  Eichard  by  my 
passionate,  ungoverned  grief.  I  threw  myself  upon 
the  floor,  I  clung  to  his  knees,  I  prayed  him  to  delay 
the  hour  of  going — another  hour,  another  day.  I  said 
all  the  wild  and  frantic  things  that  were  in  my  heart, 
as  he  closed  the  library-door  and  led  me  to  my 
room. 


228  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Try  to  say  your  prayers,  Pauline,"  was  all  he  could 
answer  me. 

I  did  try  to  say  them,  as  I  knelt  by  the  window, 
and  saw  in  the  dull,  gray  dawn,  those  two  carriages 
drive  slowly  from  the  door. 

Richard  went  away  alone.  Kilian  indeed  came 
down-stairs  just  as  he  was  starting. 

Sophie  had  awakened,  and  called  him  into  her 
room  for  a  few  moments. 

Then  he  came  down,  and  I  saw  him  get  into  the 
carriage  alone,  and  motion  the  man  to  drive  on, 
after  that  other — which  stood  waiting  a  few  rods 
farther  on. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A   JOTJENET. 

He,  full  of  modesty  and  truth, 

Loved  much,  hoped  little,  and  desired  nought. 

Tasso. 

Fresh  grief  can  occupy  itself 

With  its  own  recent  smart  ; 
It  feeds  itself  on  outward  things, 

And  not  on  its  own  heart. 

Fdber 

A  THING  which  surprises  me  very  much  in  looking 
over  those  days  of  suffering,  is,  that  during  that  day 
a  frightful  irritability  is  the  emotion  that  I  most  re 
member — an  irritability  of  feeling,  not  of  expression  : 
for  I  lay  quite  still  upon  the  bed  all  day,  and  only 
answered,  briefly  and  simply,  the  questions  of  Sophie 
and  the  maid. 

I  could  not  sleep :  it  was  many  hours  since  I  had 
slept :  but  nothing '  seemed  further  from  possibility 
than  sleeping.  The  lightest  sound  enraged  my  nerves : 
the  approach  of  any  one  made  me  frantic.  I  lay  with 
my  hands  crushed  together,  and  my  teeth  against 
each  other,  whenever  Sophie  entered  the  room. 


230  RICHARD  VANDERMARCR. 

She  tried  to  be  sympathetic  and  kind :  but  she  was 
not  much  encouraged.  Toward  afternoon,  she  left  me 
a  good  deal  alone.  "  I  wonder  how  people  feel  when 
they  are  going  mad,"  I  said,  getting  up  and  putting 
cold  water  on  my  head.  I  was  so  engaged  with  the 
strange  sensations  that  pursued  me,  that  I  did  not 
dwell  upon  my  trouble. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  feel  when  you  are  going  to 
die  ?  or  what  happens  if  you  never  go  to  sleep  ?"  My 
body  was  so  young  and  healthy,  that  it  was  making  a 
good  fight. 

Just  at  dusk,  Eichard  returned.  In  a  little  while, 
about  half  an  hour,  Sophie  came  and  told  me  Rich 
ard  would  like  to  see  me  in  her  little  dressing- 
room. 

The  day  of  panic  and  horror  was  over,  and  pro 
prieties  must  begin  their  sway.  I  felt  I  hated  Sophie 
for  making  me  go  out  of  my  own  room,  but  I  pulled 
a  shawl  over  my  shoulders  and  followed  her  across  the 
hall  into  her  little  room.  There  Eichard  was  waiting 
for  me.  He  gave  me  a  chair,  and  then  said,  "  You 
needn't  wait,  Sophie,"  and  sat  down  beside  me. 

Sophie  went  away  half  angry,  and  Eichard  looked 
at  me  uneasily. 

"  I  thought  you'd  want  to  see  me,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  ;  "  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  every- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  231 

tiling,"  but  in  so  commonplace  a  voice,  I  know  that 
he  was  startled. 

"  Yon  do  not  feel  well,  do  you  ?  Maybe  we'd  bet 
ter  not  talk  about  it  now." 

"  Oh,  yes.     You  might  as  well  tell  me  all  to-night." 

"  Well,  everything  is  done.  The  two  persons  to 
whom  I  telegraphed  met  me  at  the  station.  There 
was  very  little  delay.  I  went  with  them  to  the 
cemetery." 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  that.  I  thought  perhaps  you 
wouldn't  go.  Was  there  a  clergyman,  or  don't  they 
have  a  clergyman  when — when — " 

"  There  was  a  clergyman,"  said  Richard,  briefly. 

"  I  hope  you'll  take  me  there  some  time,"  I  said 
dreamily.  "  Should  you  know  where  to  go — exactly  ?" 

"  Exactly,"  he  answered.  "  But,  Pauline,  I  am 
afraid  you  havn't  rested  at  all  to-day.  Have  you 
slept?" 

"  No ;  and  I  wish  I  could ;  my  head  feels  so 
strangely — light,  you  know — and  as  if  I  couldn't 
think." 

"  Haven't  you  seen  the  Doctor  ?" 

"  No — and  that's  what  I  want  to  say.  I  won't  have 
the  Doctor  here ;  and  I  want  you  to  take  me  home 
to-morrow  morning,  early.  I  have  put  a  good  many 
of  my  clothes  into  my  trunk,  and  Bettina  will  help 


232  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

me  with  the  rest  to-night.     Isn't  there  any  train  be 
fore  the  five  o'clock  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Richard,  uneasily.  "  Pauline,  I  think 
you'd  better  not  arrange  to  go  away  to-morrow." 

"  If  you  don't  take  me  out  of  this  house  I  shall  go 
mad.  I  have  been  thinking  about  it  all  day,  and  I 
know  I  shall." 

Richard  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then,  with  the 
wise  instinct  of  affection,  wonderful  in  man,  and  in  a 
man  who  had  had  no  experience  in  dealing  with 
diseased  or  suffering  minds,  he  acquiesced  in  my  plan 
to  go  ;  told  me  that  we  would  take  the  earliest  train, 
and  interested  me  in  thoughts  about  my  packing. 
About  nine  o'clock  he  came  to  my  room-door,  and  I 
heard  some  one  with  him.  It  was  the  Doctor. 

I  turned  upon  Richard  a  fierce  look,  and  said,  very 
quietly,  he  might  go  away,  for  I  would  not  see  the 
Doctor.  After  that,  they  tried  me  with  Sophie,  but 
with  less  success ;  and,  finally,  Richard  came  back 
alone,  with  a  glass  in  his  hand. 

"  Take  this,  Pauline,  it  will  make  you  sleep." 

I  wanted  to  sleep  very  much,  so  I  took  it. 

Bettina  had  finished  my  packing,  and  had  laid  my 
travelling  dress  and  hat  upon  a  chair. 

"  Shall  Bettina  come  and  sleep  on  the  floor,  by  youi 
bed  ?"  asked  Richard,  anxiously. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  233 

"  !No,  I  would  not  have  her  for  the  world." 

"  Maybe  you  might  not  wake  in  time,"  said  Richard, 
warily. 

That  was  very  true  :  so  I  let  Bettina  come.  Richard 
gave  her  some  instructions  at  the  door,  and  she  came 
in  and  arranged  things  for  the  night,  and  lay  down  on 
a  mattress  at  the  foot  of  my  bed. 

The  sedative  which  the  Doctor  sent  did  not  work 
very  well.  I  had  very  little  sleep,  and  that  full  of  such 
hideous,  freezing  dreams,  that  every  time  I  woke,  I  found 
Bettina  standing  by  my  bed,  looking  at  me  with  alarm. 
I  had  been  screaming  and  moaning,  she  said,  The 
screaming  and  moaning  and  sleeping  (such  as  it  was), 
were  all  over  in  about  two  hours,  and  then  I  had  the 
rest  of  the  night  to  endure,  with  the  same  strange, 
light  feeling  in  my  head — the  restlessness  not  much, 
but  somewhat  abated. 

I  was  very  glad  that  Bettina  was  in  the  room,  for 
though  she  was  sleepy,  and  always  a  little  stupid,  she 
was  human,  and  I  was  a  coward,  both  in  the  matter 
of  loneliness  and  of  suffering.  I  made  her  sit  by  me, 
and  take  hold  of  my  hand,  and  I  asked  her  several 
times  if  she  had  ever  been  with  any  one  that  died, 
or  that — I  did  not  quite  dare  to  ask  her  about 
going  mad. 

My  questions  seemed  to  trouble  her.     She  crossed 


234:  RICHARD  VANDERMARVR. 

herself,  and  shuddered,  and  said,  ISTo,  she  had  never 
been  with  any  one  that  died,  and  she  prayed  the  good 
God  never  to  let  her  be. 

"You'll  have  to  be  with  one  person  that  dies, 
Bettina.  That's  yourself.  You  know  it's  got  to  come. 
We've  aJl  got  to  go  out  at  that  gate,"  and  I  moaned, 
and  turned  my  face  away. 

"  Let  me  call  Mr.  Richard,"  said  Bettina,  very  much 
afraid.  I  would  have  given  all  the  world  to  have  seen 
Richard  then ;  but  I  knew  it  was  impossible,  and  I 
said,  No,  it  would  soon  be  morning. 

Long  before  morning,  I  heard  Richard  up  and 
walking  about  the  house.  We  were  to  leave  the 
house  at  half-past  four.  By  four,  all  the  trunks,  and 
shawls,  and  packages,  were  strapped  and  ready,  and  I 
was  sitting  dressed,  and  waiting  by  the  window. 

Bettina  liked  very  much  better  to  pack  trunks,  and 
put  rooms  in  order,  than  to  sit  still  and  hold  a  per 
son's  hot  hands,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  have 
dreadful  questions  asked  her ;  and  she  had  been  very 
active  and  efficient.  Soon  Richard  called  her  to  come 
down  and  take  my  breakfast  up  to  me.  I  could  not 
eat  it,  and  it  was  taken  away.  Then  the  carriage 
came,  and  the  wagon  to  take  the  baggage.  Finally, 
Richard  came,  and  told  me  it  was  time  to  start,  if  I 
were  ready. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  235 

Sophie  came  into  the  room  in  a  wrapper,  looking 
very  dutiful  and  patient,  and  said  all  that  was  dutiful 
and  civil.  But  I  suppose  I  was  a  fiery  trial  to  her, 
and  she  wished,  no  doubt,  that  she  had  never  seen  me, 
or  better,  that  Eichard  never  had.  All  this  I  felt, 
through  her  decently  framed  good-bye,  but  I  did  not 
care  at  all ;  to  be  out  of  her  sight  as  soon  as  possible, 
was  all  that  I  requested. 

When  we  went  down  in  the  hall,  Eichard  looked 
anxiously  at  me,  but  I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  had  ever 
been  there  before ;  I  really  had  no  feeling.  I  said 
good-bye  to  Bettina,  who  was  the  only  servant  that  I 
saw,  and  Eichard  put  me  into  the  carriage.  When 
we  drove  away,  I  did  not  even  look  back.  As  we 
passed  out  of  the  gate,  I  said  to  him,  "What  day  of 
the  month  is  it  to-day  ?" 

"  It  is  the  first  of  September,"  he  returned. 

"  And  when  did  I  come  here  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Early  in  Jane,  was  it  not  ?"  he  said.  "  You  know 
I  was  not  here." 

"  Then  it  is  not  three  months,"  and  I  leaned  back 
wearily  in  the  carriage,  and  was  silent. 

Before  we  reached  the  city,  Eichard  had  good  rea 
son  to  think  that  I  was  very  ill.  He  made  me  as 
comfortable  as  he  could,  poor  fellow!  but  I  was  so 
restless,  I  could  not  keep  in  one  position  two  minutes 


236  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

at  a  time.  Several  times  I  turned  to  him  and  said, 
"  It  is  suffocating  in  this  car ;  cannot  the  window  be 
put  up  ?"  and  when  it  was  put  up,  I  would  seem  to 
feel  no  relief,  and  in  a  few  moments,  perhaps,  would 
be  shaking  with  a  nervous  chill.  It  must  have  been 
a  miserable  journey,  as  I  remember  it.  Once  I 
said  to  Richard,  after  some  useless  trouble  I  had  put 
him  to,  "  I  am  very  sorry,  Richard,  I  don't  know  how 
to  help  it,  I  feel  so  dreadfully." 

.  Richard  tried  to  answer,  but  his  voice  was  husky, 
and  he  bent  his  head  down  to  arrange  the  bundle  of 
shawls  beneath  my  feet.  I  knew  that  there  were 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  that  that  was  the  reason  that  he 
did  not  speak.  It  made  me  strangely,  momentarily 
grateful. 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  be  so  good,"  I  said 
dreamily,  "  when  Sophie  is  so  hateful,  and  Kilian  is 
so  trifling.  I  think  your  mother  must  have  been  a 
good  woman." 

I  had  never  talked  about  Richard's  mother  before, 
never  even  thought  whether  he  had  had  one  or  not, 
in  my  supreme  and  light-hearted  selfishness.  But  the 
mind,  at  such  a  point  as  I  was  then,  makes  strange 
plunges  out  of  its  own  orbit. 

"  And  she  died  when  you  were  little  ? " 

"  Yes,  when  I  was  scarcely  twelve  years  old." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  237 

"  A  woman  ought  to  be  very  good  when  it  makes 
so  much  difference  to  her  children.  Richard,  did  my 
uncle  ever  tell  you  anything  about  my  mother — what 
sort  of  a  woman  she  was,  and  whether  I  am  like  her  ? " 

"  He  never  said  a  great  deal  to  me  about  it,"  Richard 
answered,  not  looking  at  me  as  he  talked.  "  He  thinks 
you  are  like  her,  very  strikingly,  I  believe." 

"  Think !  I  haven't  even  a  scrap  of  a  picture  of  her, 
and  no  one  has  ever  talked  to  me  about  her.  All  I 
have  are  some  old  yellow  letters  to  my  father,  written 
before  I  was  born.  I  think  she  loved  my  father  very 
much.  The  noise  of  these  cars  makes  me  feel  so 
strangely.  Can't  we  go  into  the  one  behind  ?  I  am 
sure  it  cannot  be  so  bad." 

"  This  is  the  best  car  on  the  train,  Pauline.  I 
know  the  noise  is  very  bad,  but  try  to  bear  it  for  a 
little  while.  We  shall  soon  be  there."  And  so  on, 
through  the  weary  journey. 

At  one  station  Richard  got  out,  and  I  saw  him 
speaking  to  several  men.  I  believe  he  was  hoping  to 
find  a  doctor,  for  he  was  thoroughly  frightened. 

Before  we  reached  the  city  I  was  past  being  fright 
ened  for  myself,  for  I  was  suffering  too  much  to  think 
of  what  might  be  the  result  of  my  condition.  When 
we  left  the  cars,  and  Richard  put  me  in  a  carriage,  the 
motion  of  the  carriage  and  its  jarring  over  the  stones 


238  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

were  almost  unendurable.  Richard  was  too  anxious 
now  to  say  much  to  me.  The  expression  of  relief  on 
his  face  as  we  reached  Yarick-street  was  unspeakable. 
He  hurried  up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell,  then  came 
back  for  me,  and  half  carried  me  up  the  steps. 

The  door  was  opened  by  Ann  Coddle,  who  was 
thrown  into  a  helpless  state  of  amazement  by  seeing 
me,  not  knowing  why  in  this  condition  I  did  come,  or 
why  I  came  at  all.  She  shrieked,  and  ejaculated,  and 
backed  almost  down  the  basement  stairs.  Richard 
sternly  told  her  she  was  acting  like  a  fool,  and  ordered 
her  to  show  him  where  Miss  Pauline's  room  was,  that 
he  might  take  her  to  it. 

"  But  her  room  isn't  ready,"  ejaculated  Ann,  coming 
to  herself,  which  was  a  wretched  thing  to  come  to,  as 
poor  Richard  found. 

"  ]STot  ready  ?  well,  make  it  ready,  then.  Go  before 
me  and  open  the  windows,  and  I  will  put  her  on  the 
sofa  till  you  have  the  bed  ready  for  her." 

"  The  sofa— oh,  Mr.  Richard,  it's  all  full  of  her  dear^ 
clothes  that  have  come  up  from  the  wash." 

"  Well,  then,  take  them  off — idiot — and  do  as  you 
are  told." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Pauline — oh,  my  poor,  dear  lamb.  Oh, 
I'm  all  in  a  flutter ;  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I'd 
better  call  the  cook." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  239 

"  Well,  call  the  cook,  then,"  said  Richard,  groaning, 
"  only  tell  her  to  be  quick." 

All  this  time  Richard  was  supporting  me  up  the 
stairs.  As  we  reached  the  top,  Richard  called  out, 
"  Tell  Peter  I  want  him  at  once,  to  take  a  message  for 
me." 

Ann  was  watching  our  progress  up  the  stairs,  with 
groans  and  ejaculations,  forgetting  that  she  was  to 
call  the  cook.  At  the  mention  of  Peter  she  ex 
claimed, 

"He's  laid  up  with  the  rheumatism,  Mr.  Richard. 
Oh,  whatever  shall  we  do  !" 

When  we  reached  the  middle  of  the  second  pair  of 
stairs,  I  was  almost  helpless  ;  Richard  took  me  in  his 
arms,  and  carried  me. 

"  Is  it  this  door,  Pauline  dear  ?"  he  said,  opening 
the  first  he  came  to. 

I  should  think  the  room  had  not  been  opened  since 
I  went  away,  it  was  so  warm  and  close. 

Richard  carried  me  to  the  sofa,  and  scattered  the 
lingerie  far  and  wide  as  he  laid  me  down  upon  it,  and 
•went  to  open  the  windows.  Then  he  went  to  the 
bell  and  pulled  it  violently.  In  a  few  moments  the 
cook  came  up  (accompanied  by  Ann).  She  was  a 
huge,  unwieldy  woman,  but  she  had  some  intelligence, 
and  knew  better  than  to  whimper. 


240  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Miss  Pauline  is  ill,"  lie  said,  "  and  I  want  you  to 
stay  by  her,  and  not  leave  her  for  a  moment,  till  I 
come  back.  Make  that  woman  get  the  room  in  order 
instantly,  and  keep  everything  as  quiet  as  you  can." 
To  me :  "  I  am  going  to  bring  a  doctor,  and  I  shall 
be  back  in  a  few  moments.  Do  not  worry,  they  will 
take  good  care  of  you." 

When  I  heard  Richard  shut  the  carriage-door  and 
drive  away  rapidly,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  abandoned,  and 
by  the  time  he  returned  with  the  Doctor,  I  was  in  a 
state  that  warranted  them  in  supposing  me  uncon 
scious,  tossing  and  moaning,  and  uttering  inarticulate 
words. 

The  Doctor  stood  beside  me,  and  talked  about  me 
to  Richard  with  as  much  freedom  as  if  I  had  been  a 
corpse. 

"  I  may  as  well  be  frank  with  you,"  he  said,  after  a 
few  moments  of  examination.  "  I  apprehend  great 
trouble  from  the  brain.  How  long  has  she  been  in 
this  condition?" 

"  She  has  been  unlike  herself  since  yesterday ;  as 
soon  as  I  saw  her,  at  seven  o'clock  last  night,  I  noticed 
she  was  looking  badly.  She  answered  me  in  an  ab 
stracted,  odd  way,  and  was  unlike  herself,  as  I  have 
said.  But  she  had  been  under  much  excitement  for 
some  time." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  241 

"  Tell  me,  if  you  please,  all  about  it ;  and  how  long 
she  has  been  under  this  excitement." 

"  She  has  been  often  agitated,  and  quite  overstrained 
in  feeling  for  some  time.  Three  weeks  ago  I  thought 
her  looking  badly.  Two  days  ago  she  had  a  frightful 
shock — a  suicide — which  she  was  the  first  to  discover. 
Since  then  I  do  not  think  that  she  has  slept." 

"Ah!  poor  young  lady.  She  has  had  a  terrible 
experience,  and  is  paying  for  it.  Now  for  what  we 
can  do  for  her.  In  the  first  place,  who  takes  care  of 
her  ?"  with  a  look  about  the  room. 

"  You  may  well  ask.  I  have  just  brought  her  home, 
and  find  here,  the  man-servant  ill,  one  woman  too  old 
and  inactive  to  perform  much  service,  and  another  to 
whom  I  would  not  trust  her  for  a  moment.  I  must 
ask  you,  who  shall  I  get  to  take  care  of  her  ?" 

"  You  have  no  friend,  no  one  to  whom  you  could 
send  in  such  a  case  ?  One  of  life  and  death, — I  hope 
you  understand  ?" 

"  None,"  answered  Richard,  with  a  groan.  "  There 
is  not  a  person  in  the  city  to  whom  I  could  send  for 
help.  All  my  family — all  our  friends,  are  away.  Is 
there  no  one  that  can  be  got  for  money — any  money  ? 
no  nurse  that  you  could  recommend  ?" 

"I  have  a  list  of  twenty.      Yesterday  I  sent  to 

every  one,  for  a  dangerous  case  of  hemorrhage,  and 

11 


24:2  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

could  not  find  one  disengaged.  It  may  be  to-morrow 
night  before  you  get  on  the  track  of  one  that  is  at 
liberty,  if  you  hunt  the  city  over.  And  this  girl  is  in 
need  of  instant  care ;  her  life  hangs  on  it,  you  must 
see." 

"  In  God's  name,  then,"  said  Richard,  with  a  groan, 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  "  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  In  His  name,  if  you  come  to  that,"  said  the 
Doctor,  who  was  a  good  sort  of  man,  notwithstanding 
his  professional  cool  ways,  "  there  is  a  sisterhood,  that 
I  am  told  offer  to  do  things  like  this.  I  never  sent 
to  them,  for  I  only  heard  of  it  a  short  time  ago ;  but 
if  you  have  no  objection  to  crosses,  and  caps,  and 
ritualistic  nonsense  in  its  highest  flower,  I  have  no 
doubt,  that  they  will  let  you  have  a  sister,  and  that 
she'll  do  good  service  here." 

"  The  direction,"  said  Richard,  too  eager  to  be  civil. 
"  How  am  I  to  get  there  ?" 

The  Doctor  pulled  over  a  pocket-case  of  loose 
papers,  and  at  last  found  one,  which  he  handed  his 
companion. 

"  I  give  you  three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  get  back," 
he  said.  "  I  will  stay  here  till  then,  at  all  events.  Do 
not  waste  any  time — nor  spare  any  eloquence,"  he 
added  to  himself,  as  Richard  hurried  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SISTER   MADELINE. 

* 

Yes !  it  is  well  for  us  :  from  these  alarms, 
Like  children  scared,  we  fly  into  thine  arms ; 
And  pressing  sorrows  put  our  pride  to  rout 
With  a  swift  faith  which  has  not  time  to  doubt. 
•'•  Faber. 

Learn  by  a  mortal  yearning  to  ascend 
Towards  a  higher  object.     Love  was  given, 
Encouraged,  sanctioned,  chiefly  for  that  end; 
For  this  the  passion  to  excess  was  driven — 
That  self  might  be  annulled  ;  her  bondage  prove 
The  fetters  of  a  dream,  opposed  to  love. 

Wordsworth. 

THE  next  thing  that  I  recall,  is  rousing  from  slum 
ber,  or  something  related  to  slum  her,  and  seeing  a  tall 
woman  in  the  dress  of  a  sister,  standing  by  my  bed. 
It  was  night,  and  there  was  a  lamp  upon  a  table  near. 
The  unusual  dress,  and  the  unfamiliarity  of  her  whole 
appearance,  made  me  start  and  stare  at  her,  half  rais 
ing  myself  in  the  bed. 

"  Why  did  you  come  here  ? "  I  said.  "  Who  sent 
for  you  ? " 

"  I  came  because  you  were  sick  and  suffering,  and 


244  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  was  sent  in  the  Name "  and  bending  her 

head  slightly,  she  said  a  Name  too  sacred  for  these 
pages. 

I  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and  sank  back  on 
my  pillow.  Her  answer  satisfied  me,  for  I  was  not 
able  to  reason.  I  let  her  hold  my  hand;  and  all 
through  that  dark  and  troubled  time  submitted  to 
her  will,  and  desired  her  presence,  and  was  soothed 
by  her  voice  and  touch. 

Sister  Madeline  was  not  at  all  .the  ideal  sister, 
being  tall  and  dark,  and  with  nothing  peculiarly 
devotional  or  pensive  in  her  cast  of  feature.  Her 
face  was  a  fine,  earnest  one.  Her  movements  were 
full  of  energy  and  decision,  though  not  quick  or 
sharp.  The  whole  impression  left  was  that  of 
one  by  nature  far  from  humility,  tenderness,  de 
votion  ;  but,  by  the  force  of  a  magnificent  faith, 
made  passionately  humble,  devout  from  the  very 
heart,  more  than  humanly  compassionate  and  ten 
der. 

I  never  felt  toward  her  as  if  she  were  "  born  so  " 
— but  as  if  she  were  rescued  from  the  world  by 
some  great  effort  or  experience ;  as  if  it  were  all 
"made  ground,"  reclaimed  from  nature  by  infinite 
patience  and  incessant  labor.  She  lived  the  life  of 
an  angel  upon  the  earth.  I  never  saw  her,  by  look, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  245 

by  word,  or  tone,  transgress  the  least  of  the  com 
mandments,  so  wonderful  was  the  curb  she  held 
over  all  her  human  feelings.  Nor  was  this  per 
fection  attained  by  a  sudden  and  grand  sacrifice ; 
the  consecration  of  herself  to  the  religious  life  was 
not  the  "  single  step  'twixt  earth  and  heaven,"  but 
it  was  attained  by  daily  and  hourly  study — by  the 
practice  of  a  hundred  self-denials — by  the  most 
accurate  science  of  spiritual  progress. 

Doubtless,  saints  can  be  made  in  other  ways,  but 
this  is  one  way  they  can  be  made,  starting  with  a 
sincere  intention  to  serve  God.  At  least,  so  I  be 
lieve,  from  knowing  Sister  Madeline. 

She  made  a  great  change  in  my  life,  and  I  owe 
her  a  great  deal.  It  is  not  strange  I  feel  enthusiasm 
for  her.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  what  my  coming 
back  to  life  would  have  been  without  her. 

Of  the  alarming  nature  of  my  illness,  I  only 
know  that  there  were  several  days  when  Richard 
never  left  the  house,  but  waited,  hour  after  hour,  in 
the  library  below,  for  the  news  of  my  condition, 
and  when  even  Uncle  Leonard  came  home  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  and  walked  about  the  house, 
silent  and  unapproachable. 

One  night — how  well  I  remember  it !  I  had  been 
convalescent,  I  do  not  know  how  long ;  I  had  passed 


246  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

the  childish  state  of  interest  in  my  ~bouUli,  and 
fretfulness  about  my  peignoir  /  my  mind  had  begun 
to  regain  its  ordinary  power,  and  with  the  first  efforts 
of  memory  and  thought  had  come  fearful  depres 
sion  and  despondency,  i  was  so  weak,  physically, 
that  I  could  not  fight  against  this  in  the  least.  Sister 
Madeline  came  to  my  bedside,  and  found  me  in 
an  agony  of  weeping.  It  was  not  an  easy  matter 
to  gain  my  confidence,  for  I  thought  she  knew  noth 
ing  of  me,  and  I  was  not  equal  to  the  mental  effort 
of  explaining  myself;  she  was  only  associated  with 
my  illness.  But  at  last  she  made  me  understand 
that  she  was  not  ignorant  of  a  great  deal  that 
troubled  me. 

"  Who  has  told  you  ? "  I  said,  my  heart  harden 
ing  itself  against  Richard,  wTho  could  have  spoken 
of  my  trouble  to  a  stranger. 

"  You,  yourself,"  she  answered  me. 

"  I  have  raved  ?  "  I  said. 

«  Yes." 

"  And  who  has  heard  me  ? " 

"No  one  else.  I  sent  every  one  else  from  the 
room  whenever  your  delirium  became  intelligible." 

This  made  me  grateful  toward  her ;  and  I  longed 
for  sympathy.  I  threw  my  arms  about  her  and  wept 
bitterly. 


EIGHAED  VANDERMARCK. 


"  Then  you  know  that  I  can  never  cry  enough,"  I 
said. 

"  I  do  not  know  that,"  she  answered.  After  a  vain 
attempt  to  soothe  me  with  general  words  of  com 
fort,  she  said,  with  much  wisdom,  "  Tell  me  exactly 
what  thought  gives  you  the  most  pain,  now,  at  this 
moment." 

"  The  thought  of  his  dreadful  act,  and  that  by  it  he 
has  lost  his  soul." 

"  We  know  with  Whom  all  things  are  possible,"  she 
said,  "and  we  do  not  know  what  cloud  may  have 
been  over  his  reason  at  that  moment.  Would  it  com 
fort  you  to  pray  for  him  ?" 

"  Ought  I  ?"  I  asked,  raising  my  head. 

"  I  do  not  know  any  reason  that  you  ought  not," 
she  returned.  u  Shall  I  say  some  prayers  for  him  now  ?" 

I  grasped  her  hand:  she  took  a  little  book  from 
her  pocket,  and  knelt  down  beside  me,  holding  my 
hand  in  hers.  Oh,  the  mercy,  the  relief  of  those 
prayers!  They  may  not  have  done  him  any  good, 
but  they  did  me.  The  hopeless  grief  that  was  killing 
me,  I  "  wept  it  from  my  heart  "  that  hour. 

"  Promise  me  one  thing,"  I  whispered  as  she  rose. 
"  that  you  will  read  that  prayer,  every  hour  during 
the  day,  'to-morrow,  by  my  bed,  whether  I  am  sleep 
ing  or  awake." 


24:8  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  I  promise,"  she  said,  and  I  am  sure  she  kept  her 
word,  that  day  and  many  others  after  it. 

During  my  convalescence,  which  was  slow,  I  had 
no  other  person  near  me,  and  wanted  none.  Uncle 
Leonard  came  in  once  a  day,  and  spent  a  few  minutes, 
much  to  his  discomfort  and  my  disadvantage.  Rich 
ard  I  had  not  seen  at  all,  and  dreaded  very  much  to 
meet.  Ann  Coddle  fretted  me,  and  was  very  little  in 
the  room. 

Over  these  days  there  is  a  sort  of  peace.  I  was 
entering  upon  so  much  that  was  new  and  elevating, 
under  the  guidance  of  Sister  Madeline,  and  was  so 
entirely  influenced  by  her,  that  I  was  brought  out  of 
my  trouble  wonderfully.  Not  out  of  it,  of  course,  but 
from  under  its  crushing  weight.  I  know  that  I  am 
rather  easily  influenced,  and  only  too  ready  to  follow 
those  who  have  won  my  love.  Therefore,  I  am  in 
every  way  thankful  that  I  came  at  such  a  time  under 
the  influence  of  a  mind  like  that  of  Sister  Made 
line. 

But  the  time  was  approaching  for  her  to  go  away. 
I  was  well  enough  to  do  without  her,  and  she  had 
other  duties.  The  sick-room  peace  and  indulgence 
were  over,  and  I  must  take  up  the  burden  of  every-day 
life  again.  I  was  very  unhappy,  and  felt  as  if  I  were 
without  stay  or  guidance. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  249 

"  To  whom  am  I  to  go  when  I  am  in  doubt  ?"  I 
said  ;  u  you  will  be  so  far  away." 

"  That  is  what  I  want  to  arrange :  the  next  time 
you  are  able  to  go  qut,  I  want  to  take  you  to  some 
one  who  can  direct  you  much  better  than  I." 

"  A  priest  ?"  I  asked.  "  Tell  me  one  thing :  will 
he  give  me  absolution  ?" 

"  I  suppose  he  will,  if  he  finds  that  you  desire  it." 

"  What  would  be  the  use  of  going  to  him  for  any 
thing  else  ?"  I  said.  "  It  is  the  only  thing  that  can 
give  me  any  comfort." 

"  All  people  do  not  feel  so,  Pauline." 

"But  you  feel  so,  dear  Sister  Madeline,  do  you 
not  \  You  can  understand  how  I  am  burdened,  and 
how  I  long  to  have  the  bands  undone  ?" 

"Yes,  Pauline,  I  can  understand." 

I  am  not  inclined  to  give  much  weight  to  my  own 
opinions,  and  as  for  my  feelings,  I  know  they  were, 
then,  those  of  a  child,  and  in  many  ways  will  always 
be.  I  can  only  say  what  comforted  me,  and  what  I 
longed  for.  There  had  always  been  great  force  to  me, 
in  the  Scripture  that  says, "  Whosesoever  sins  ye  remit, 
they  are  remitted  unto  them,  and  whosesoever  sins  ye 
retain,  they  are  retained,"  even  before  I  felt  the  bur 
den  of  my  sins. 

I  had  once  seen  the  ordination  of  a  priest,  and  I  sup- 
11* 


250  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

pose  that  added  to  the  weight  of  the  words  ever  after 
in  m y  mind.  I  never  had  any  doubt  of  the  power 
then  conferred,  and  I  no  sooner  felt  the  guilt  and  stain 
of  sin  upon  my  soul,  than  I  yearned  to  hear  the  pardon 
spoken,  that  Heaven  offered  to  the  penitent.  I  had 
been  tangibly  smitten  ;  I  longed  to  be  tangibly  healed. 

Whatever  shame  and  pain  there  was  about  laying 
bare  my  soul  before  another,  I  gladly  embraced  it,  as 
one  poor  means  at  my  command  of  showing  to  Him 
whom  I  had  offended,  that  my  repentance  was  actual, 
that  I  stopped  at  no  humiliation. 

It  may  very  well  be  that  these  feelings  would  find 
no  place  in  larger,  grander,  more  self-reliant  natures ; 
that  what  healed  my  soul  would  only  wound  another. 
I  am  not  prepared  to  think  that  one  remedy  is  cure 
for  all  diseases,  but  I  know  what  cured  mine.  I  bless 
God  for  "  the  soothing  hand  that  Love  on  Conscience 
laid."  I  mark  that  hour  as  the  beginning  of  a  fresh 
and  favored  life  ;  the  dawning  of  a  hope  that  has  not 
yet  lost  its  power 

"  to  tame 

The  haughty  brow,  to  curb  the  unchastened  eye, 
And  shape  to  deeds  of  good  each  wavering  aim." 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

THE    HOUR   OF    DAWN. 

Slowly  light  came,  the  thinnest  dawn, 

Not  sunshine,  to  my  night; 
A  new,  more  spiritual  thing, 

An  advent  of  pure  light 

All  grief  has  its  limits,  all  chastenings  their  pause ; 
Thy  love  and  our  weakness  are  sorrow's  two  laws. 

THE  winter  that  followed  seemed  very  long  and 
uneventful.  After  Sister  Madeline  went  away,  my  days 
settled  themselves  into  the  routine  in  which  they  con 
tinued  to  revolve  for  many  months.  I  was  as  lonely 
as^formerly,  save  for  the  companionship  of  well-chosen 
books,  and  for  the  direction  of  another  mind,  which  I 
felt  to  be  the  truest  support  and  guidance.  I  was 
taught  to  bend  to  my  uncle's  wishes,  and  to  give  up 
constant  church-going,  and  visiting  among  the  poor, 
which  would  have  been  such  a  resource  and  occupa 
tion  to  me.  And  so  my  life,  outwardly,  was  very  lit 
tle  changed  from  former  yeare — years  that  I  had  found 
almost  insupportable,  without  any  sorrow;  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  I  was  not  unhappy. 

My  hours  were  full  of  little  duties,  little  rules.    (I 


252  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

suppose  my  heart  was  in  them,  or  I  should  have  found 
them  irksome.)  Above  all,  I  was  not  permitted  to 
brood  over  the  past :  I  was  taught  to  feel  that  every 
thought  of  it  indulged,  was  a  sin,  and  to  be  accounted 
for  as  such :  I  could  only  remember  the  one  for  whom 
I  mourned,  on  my  knees,  in  my  prayers.  This 
checked,  as  nothing  else  could  have  done,  the  morbid 
tendency  of  grief,  in  a  lonely,  unoccupied,  undisci 
plined  mind.  I  was  thoroughly  obedient,  and  bent 
myself  with  all  simplicity  to  follow  the  instructions 
given  me.  Sometimes  they  seemed  very  irrelevant 
and  useless,  but  I  never  rebelled  against  any,  even 
one  that  seemed  as  hard  to  flesh  and  blood  as  this. 
And  I  have,  sooner  or  later,  seen  the  wisdom  of  them 
all,  as  I  have  worked  out  the  problem  of  my  correction. 

Obedient  as  I  was,  though,  and  simple  as  tlie 
routine  of  my  life  continued,  sometimes  there  came 
crises  that  were  beyond  my  strength. 

I  can  remember  one;  it  was  a  furious  storm — a 
day  that  nailed  one .  in  the  house.  There  was  some 
thing  in  the  rage  without  that  disturbed  me ;  I  wan 
dered  about  the  house-.-  and  found  myself  unable  to 

v^; 

settle  to  any  task.  SjB&  one  to  speak  to  !  Oh,  it  was 
so  dreary  to  be  alone.^Rwent  into  my  uncle's  room 
where  there  were  many  books.  Among  those  that 
were  there  I  found  one  in  French,  (I  have  no  idea 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  253 

how  it  came  there,  I  am  sure  my  uncle  had  never  read 
it.)  I  carelessly  turned  it  over,  and  finally  became 
absorbed  in  it.  I  came  upon  this  passage : 

"  Quel  plus  noir  abime  d'angoisse  y  a-t-il  au 
monde  que  le  coeur  d'un  suicide?  Quand  le  mal- 
heur  d'un  homme  est  du  a  quelque  circonstance  de  sa 
vie,  on  peut  esperer  de  Pen  voir  delivrer  par  un 
changement  qui  peut  survenir  dans  sa  position. 
Mais  lorsque  ce  malheur  a  sa  source  en  lui ;  quand 
c'est  Tame  elle-meme  qui  est  le  tourment  de  1'ame ; 
la  vie  elle-meme  qui  est  le  fardeau  de  la  vie ;  que 
faire,  que  de  reconnaitre  en  gemissant  qu'il  n'y  a  rien 
a  faire — rienr  selon  le  monde ;  et  qu'un  tel  homme, 
plus  a  plaindre  que  ce  prisonnier  que  1'histoire  no  as 
peint  dans  les  angoisses  de  la  faim,  se  repaissant  de 
sa  propre  chair,  est  reduit  a  devorer  la  substance 
meme  de  son  ame  dans  les  horreurs  de  son  deses- 
poir.  Et  qu'imagine-t-il  done  pour  echapper  a  lui- 
meme,  com  me  a  son  plus  cruel  ennemi  ?  Je  ne  dis 
pas :  '  Ou  ira-t-il  loin  de  1'esprit  de  Dieu  ?  ou  fuira-t-il 
loin  de  sa  face  ? '  Je  demande,  ou  ira-t-il  loin  de  son 
propre  esprit?  ou  fuira-t-il  loin  de  sa  propre  face? 
Ou  descendra-t-il  qu'il  ne  s'y  suive  lui-meme ;  ou  se 
cachera-t-il  qu'il  ne  s'y  trouve  encore  ?  Insense, 
dont  la  folie  egale  la  inisere,  quand  tu  te  seras  tue,  on 
dira:  'II  est  mort;' mais  ce  sont  les  autres  qui  le 


254  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

diront ;  ce  ne  sera  pas  toi-meme.  Tu  seras  mort  pour 
ton  pays,  mort  pour  ta  ville,  mort  pour  ta  famille ; 
mais  pour  toi-meme,  pour  ce  qui  pense  en  toi,  helas ! 
pour  ce  qui  souffre  en  toi,  tu  vivras  toujours. 

Et  comment  ne  sens-tu  pas,  que  pour  cesser  d'etre 
malheureux,  ce  n'est  pas  ta  place  qu'il  faut  changer, 
c'est  ton  coaur.  Que  tu  disparaisses  sous  les  flots, 
qu'un  plomb  meurtrier  brise  ta  tete,  ou  qu'un  poison 
subtil  glace  tes  veines ;  quoi  que  tu  fasses,  et  ou  que 
tu  ailles,  tu  n'y  peux  aller  qu'avec  toi-meme, 
qu'avec  ton  coeur,  qu'avec  ta  misere !  Que  dis-je  ? 
Tu  y  vas  avec  un  compte  de  plus  a  rendre,  a  la 
rencontre  du  grand  Dieu  qui  doit  te  juger ;  tu  y  vas 
avec  1'eternite  de  plus  pour  souffrir,  et  le  temps  de 
moins  pour  te  repentir ! 

A  moins  que  tu  ne  penses  peut-etre,  parceque  1'ceil 
de  rhomme  n'a  rien  vu  au-dela  de  la  tombe,  que  .cette 
vie  n'ait  pas  de  suite.  Mais  non,  tu  ne  saurais  le 
croire !  Quand  tous  les  autres  le  penseraient,  toi,  tu 
ne  le  pourrais  pas.  Tu  as  une  preuve  d'immortalite 
qui  t'appartient  en  propre.  Cette  tristesse  qui  te 
consume,  est  quelque  chose  de  trop  intime  et  de  trop 
profond  pour  se  dissoudre  avec  tes  organes,  et  ce  qui 
est  capable  de  tant  souffrir  ne  peut  pas  s'aller  perdre 
dans  la  terre.  Les  vers  heriteront  de  la  poussiere  de 
ton  corps,  mais  1'amertume  de  ton  ame,  qui  en  he- 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  255 

ritera  ?  Ces  extases  sublimes,  ces  tourments  affreux ; 
ces  hauteurs  des  cieux,  ces  profondeurs  des  abimes ; 
qu'y  a-t-il  d'assez  grand  ou  d'assez  abaisse,  d'assez 
eleve  ou  d'assez  avili  pour  les  revetir  en  ta  place? 
Non,  tu  ne  saurais  jamais  croire  que  tout  meurt  avec 
le  corps ;  ou  si  tu  le  pouvais  tu  n'en  serais  que  plus 
insense,  plus  miserable  encore." 

It  is  proof  how  child-like  I  had  been,  how  obedient 
in  suppressing  all  forbidden  thoughts,  that  these  words 
smote  me  with  such  horror.  I  had  indulged  in  no 
speculation ;  I  had  never  thought  of  him  as  haunted 
by  the  self  he  fled ;  as  still  bound  to  an  inexorable 
and  inextinguishable  life, 

"  With  time  and  hope  behind  him  cast, 
And  all  his  work  to  do  with  palsied  hands  and  cold." 

The  terrors  I  had  had,  had  been  vague.  I  had 
thought  dimly  of  punishment,  more  keenly  of  sepa 
ration.  If  I  had  analysed  my  thoughts,  I  suppose  I 
should  have  found  annihilation  to  have  been  my  be 
lief — death  forever,  loss  eternal.  But  this — if  this 
were  truth — (and  it  smote  me  as  the  truth  alone  can 
smite),  oh,  it  was  maddening.  To  my  knees !  To 
my  knees  !  Oh,  that  I  might  live  long  years  to  pray 
for  him !  Oh,  that  I  might  stretch  out  my  hands  to 
God  for  him,  withered  with  age  and  shrunk  with 


256  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

fasting,  and  strong  but  in  faith  and  final  perseverance ! 
Oh,  it  could  riot  be  too  late  !  What  was  prayer  made 
for,  but  for  a  time  like  this?  What  was  this  little 
breath  of  time,  compared  with  the  Eternal  Years,  that 
we  should  only  speak  now  for  each  other  to  our  mer 
ciful  God,  and  never  speak  for  each  other  afterward  ? 
Spirits  are  forever ;  and  is  prayer  only  for  the  days  of 
the  body  ? 

It  was  well  for  me  that  none  of  the  doubts  that  are 
so  often  expressed  had  found  any  lodgment  in  my 
brain ;  if  I  had  not  believed  that  I  had  a  right  to  pray 
for  him,  and  that  my  prayers  might  help  him,  I  can 
not  understand  how  I  could  have  lived  through  those 
nights  and  days  of  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

APBES    PERDUE,  PEED  ON    BIEN. 

"What  to  those  who  understand 
Are  to-day's  enjoyments  narrow, 
Which  to-morrow  go  again, 
Which  are  shared  with  evil  men, 
And  of  which  no  man  in  his  dying 
Taketh  aught  for  softer  lying  ? 

IT  was  now  early  spring :  the  days  were  lengthen 
ing  and  were  growing  soft.  Lent  (late  that  year)  was 
nearly  over.  I  had  begun  to  think  much  about  the 
summer,  and  to  wonder  if  I  were  to  pass  it  in  the 
city.  There  was  one  thing  that  the  winter  had 
developed  in  me,  and  that  was,  a  sort  of  affection  for 
my  uncle.  I  had  learned  that  I  owed  him  a  duty, 
and  had  tried  to  find  ways  of  fulfilling  it ;  had  taken 
a  little  interest  in  the  house,  and  had  tried  to  make 
him  more  comfortable.  Also  I  had  prayed  very  con 
stantly  for  him,  and  perhaps  there  is  no  way  more 
certain  of  establishing  an  affection,  or  at  least  a  chanty 
for  another,  than  that. 

In  return,  he  had  been  a  little  more  human  to  me 


258  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

than  formerly,  had  shown  some  interest  in  my  health, 
and  continued  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  I  was  in 
the  house.  Once  he  had  talked  to  me,  for  perhaps 
half  an  hour,  about  my  mother,  for  which  I  was  un 
speakably  grateful.  Several  times  he  had  given  me  a 
good  deal  of  money,  which  I  had  cared  much  less 
about.  Latterly  he  had  permitted  me  to  go  to  church 
alone,  which  had  seemed  to  me  must  be  owing  to 
Richard's  intervention. 

Richard  had  been  almost  as  much  as  formerly  at 
the  house :  my  uncle  was  becoming  more  and  more 
dependent  on  him.  For  myself,  I  did  not  see  as 
much  of  him  as  the  year  before.  We  were  always 
together  at  the  table,  of  course.  But  the  evenings 
that  Richard  was  with  my  uncle,  I  thought  it  un 
necessary  for  me  to  stay  down-stairs.  Besides,  now, 
they  almost  always  had  writing  or  business  affairs  to 
occupy  them. 

It  was  natural  that  I  should  go  away,  and  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  it.  Richard  still  brought  me  books, 
still  arranged  things  for  me  with  my  uncle  (as  in 
the  matter  of  going  to  church  alone),  but  we  had  no 
more  talks  together  by  ourselves,  and  he  never  asked 
me  to  go  anywhere  with  him.  At  Christmas  he 
sent  me  beautiful  flowers,  and  a  picture  for  my  room. 
Sophie  I  rarely  saw,  and  only  longed  never  to  see 


%  RICHARD  VANDEHMARGK.  259 

Benny  was  permitted  to  come  and  spend  a  day  with 
me,  at  great  intervals,  and  I  enjoyed  him  more 
than  his  mother  or  his  uncle. 

One  day  my  uncle  went  down  to  his  office  in  his 
usual  health ;  at  three  o'clock  he  was  brought  home 
senseless,  and  only  lived  till  midnight,  dying  without 
recovering  speech  or  consciousness.  It  was  a  sudden 
seizure,  but  what  everybody  had  expected  ;  everybody 
was  shocked  for  the  moment,  and  then  wondered 
that  they  were.  It  was  very  appalling  to  me;  I 
was  so  unhappy,  I  almost  believed  I  loved  him,  and 
I  certainly  mourned  for  him  with  simplicity  and 
affection. 

The  preparations  for  the  funeral  were  so  frightful, 
and  all  the  thoughts  it  brought  so  unnerving,  that  I 
was  almost  ill.  A  great  deal  came  upon  me,  in 
trying  to  manage  the  wailing  servants,  and  in  help 
ing  Richard  in  arrangements. 

It  was  the  day  after  the  funeral ;  I  wTas  tired  out, 
and  had  lain  down  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room, 
partly  because  I  hated  to  be  alone  up-stairs,  and 
partly  because  it  was  not  far  from  lunch- time,  and  I 
felt  too  weary  to  take  any  needless  steps.  I  don't 
think  ever  in  my  life  before  I  had  lain  down  on  that 
sofa,  or  had  spent  two  hours  except,  at  the  table,  in 
that  room.  It  was  a  most  cheerless  room,  and  no  one 


RICHAED  VANDERMARCK. 


ever  thought  of  sitting  down  in  it,  except  at  meal 
time.  I  closed  the  shutters  and  darkened  it  to  suit 
my  eyes,  which  ached,  and  I  think  must  have  fallen 
asleep. 

The  parlor  was  the  room  which  adjoined  the 
dining-room  (only  two  large  rooms  on  one  floor,  as 
they  used  to  build),  and  separated  from  it  by  heavy 
mahogany  columns  and  sliding-doors.  These  doors 
were  half-way  open,  and  I  was  roused  by  voices  in 
the  parlor.  As  soon  as  J  recovered  myself  from  the 
sudden  waking,  I  recognized  Sophie's  and  then 
Richard's.  I  wondered  what  Richard  was  doing  up 
town  at  that  hour,  and  so  Sophie  did  too,  for  -she 
asked  him  very  plainly. 

"  I  thought  I  ought  to  come  to  see  Pauline,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  did  not  suppose  I  should  find  you  here 
in  the  middle  of  the  day." 

"  There  is  something  that  I've  got  to  see  Pauline 
about  at  once,"  he  said,  "  and  so  I  was  obliged  to 
come  up-town." 

"Nothing  has  happened  ?"  she  said  interrogatively. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  evasively. 

But  she  went  on  :  "  I  suppose  it's  something  in  rela 
tion  to  the  will  ;  I  hope  she's  well  provided  for,  poor 
thing." 

"  Sophie,"  said  her  brother,  with  a  change  of  tone, 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  261 

"  You'll  have  to  hear  it  some  time,  and  perhaps  yon 
may  as  well  hear  it  now.  It  is  that  that  I  have 
come  np-town  about ;  there  has  been  some  strange 
mistake  made  ;  there  is  no  will." 

"  No  will !  "  echoed  Sophie,  "  Why,  you  told  me 


"  That  he  had  left  her  everything.  So  he  told  me 
twice  last  year ;  so  I  have  always  believed  to  be  the 
case.  Since  the  day  he  died,  the  most  faithful  search 
has  been  made ;  there  is  not  a  corner  of  his  office,  of 
his  library,  of  his  room,  that  I  have  not  hunted 
through.  He  was  so  methodical  in  business  matters, 
so  exact  in  the  care  of  his  papers,  that  I  had  little 
hope,  after  I  had  gone  through  his  desk.  I  cannot 
understand  it.  It  is  altogether  dark  to  me." 

"  What  can  have  made  him  change  his  mind  about 
it,  Richard  ?  Can  he  have  heard  anything  about 
last  summer?" 

"!Nbt  from  me,  Sophie.  But  I  have  sometimes 
thought  he  knew,  from  allusions  that  he  has  made 
to  her  mother's  marriage,  more  than  once  this 
winter." 

"  He  was  very  angry  about  that,  at  the  time,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"Yes,  I  imagine  so.  The  man  she  married  was 
poor,  and  a  foreigner :  two  things  he  hated.  I  never 


262  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

heard  there  was  anything  against  him  but  his 
poverty." 

"  How  can  he  have  heard  about  Mr.  Langenau  ?" 
said  Sophie,  musingly. 

"  I  think  Pauline  must  have  told  him,"  said  Richard. 

"  Pauline  ?  never.  She  is  much  too  clever ;  she 
never  told  him.  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  that" 

"  Pauline  clever !  Poor  Pauline !"  said  Richard,  with 
a  short,  sarcastic  laugh,  which  had  the  effect  of  making 
Sophie  angry. 

"  I  am  willing,"  she  said,  "  that  she  should  be  as 
stupid  and  as  good  as  you  can  wish  -  — .  To  whom 
does  the  money  go  ?"  she  added,  as  if  she  had  not 
patience  for  the  other  subject. 

"  To  a  brother,  with  whom  he  had  a  quarrel,  and 
whom  he  had  not  seen  for  over  sixteen  years." 

"Incredible!" 

"  But  there  had  been  some  sort  of  a  reconciliation, 
at  least  an  exchange  of  letters,  within  these  three 
months  past." 

"Ah!" 

"And  it  is  in  consequence  of  hearing  from  hirn, 
and  being  pressed  by  his  lawyer  for  an  immediate 
settlement  of  the  estate,  that  I  have  come  up  to  tell 
Pauline,  and  to  prepare  her  for  her  changed  pros 
pects." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  263 

"And  what  do  you  propose  to  advise1?"  asked 
Sophie,  with  a  chilling  voice. 

"Heaven  knows,  Sophie,"  answered  her  brother, 
with  a  heavy  sigh.  "  I  see  nothing  ahead  for  the 
poor  girl,  but  loneliness  and  trial.  She  is  utterly  un 
fit  to  struggle  with  the  world.  And  she  has  not  even 
a  shelter  for  her  head." 

"  Richard,"  interrupted  his  sister,  with  intensity  of 
feeling  in  her  voice,  "  I  see  what  you  are  trying  to 
persuade  yourself:  do  not  tell  me,  after  what  has 
passed,  you  still  feel  that  you  are  bound  to  her — 

"Jf&undf"  exclaimed  Richard,  with  a  vehemence 
most  strange  in  him,  as,  pacing  the  room,  he  stood 
still  before  his  sister.  His  back  was  toward  me.  She 
was  so  absorbed  she  did  not  see  me  as  I  darted  past 
the  folding-doors  into  the  hall.  As  I  flew  panting  up 
to  my  own  room,  I  remember  one  feeling  above  all 
others,  the  first  feeling  of  affection  toward  the  house 
that  I  had  ever  had.  It  was  mine  no  longer,  my 
home  never  again  ;  I  had  no  right  to  stay  in  it  a  mo 
ment  :  my  own  room  was  not  mine  any  more — the 
room  where  I  had  learned  to  pray,  and  to  try  to  lead 
a  good  life — the  room  where  I  had  lain  when  I  was  so 
near  to  death — the  room  where  Sister  Madeline  had 
led  me  to  such  peaceful,  quiet  thoughts.  I  had  but 
one  wish  now,  not  to  see  Richard,  to  escape  Sophie,  to 


264  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

get  away  forever  from  this  house  to  which  I  had  no 
right.  I  pulled  down  my  hat  and  my  street  things, 
and  dressed  so  quickly,  that  I  had  slipped  down  the 
stairs,  and  out  into  the  street,  before  they  had  ceased 
talking  in  the  parlor.  I  heard  their  voices,  very  low, 
as  I  passed  through  the  hall.  I  fully  meant  never  to 
come  back  to  the  house  again — not  to  be  turned  out. 

My  heart  swelled  as  the  door  closed  behind  me.  It 
was  dreadful  not  to  have  a  home.  I  was  so  unused  to 
being  in  the  street  alone,  that  I  felt  frightened  when 
I  reached  the  cars  and  stopped  them. 

I  was  going  to  Sister  Madeline.  She  would  take 
me,  and  keep  me,  and  teach  me  where  to  live,  and  how. 
I  was  a  little  confused,  and  got  out  at  the  wrong 
street,  and  had  to  walk  several  blocks  before  I  reached 
the  house. 

The  servant  at  the  door  met -me  with  an  answer 
that  made  me  wonder  whether  there  were  anything 
else  to  happen  to  me  on  that  day. 

Sister  Madeline  had  been  called  away — had  gone  on 
a  long  journey — something  about  the  illness  of  her 
brother ;  and  I  must  not  come  inside  the  door,  for  a 
contagious  disease  was  raging,  and  the  orders  were 
strict  that  no  one  be  admitted.  I  had  walked  so  fast, 
and  in  such  excitement  of  feeling,  that  I  was  weak 
and  faint  when  I  turned  to  go  down  the  steps. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  265 

"Where  should  I  go  ?  I  walked  on  slowly  now,  and 
undecided,  for  I  had  no. aim. 

The  clergyman  to  whom  I  had  gone  for  direction 
in  matters  spiritual,  was  ill — for  two  weeks  had  given 
up  even  Lenten  duties.  Anything — but  I  could  not 
go  home,  or  rather  where  home  had  been.  I  walked 
and  walked  till  I  was  almost  fainting,  and  found  my 
self  in  the  Park.  There  the  lovely  indications  of 
spring,  and  the  quiet,  and  the  fresh  air,  soothed  me, 
and  I  sat  down  under  some  trees  near  the  water,  and 
rested  myself.  But  the  same  giddy  whirl  of  thoughts 
came  back,  the  same  incompetency  to  deal  with  such 
strange  facts,  and  the  same  confusion.  I  do  not  know 
how  long  I  wandered  about ;  but  I  was  faint  and  weary 
and  hungry,  and  frightened  too,  for  people  were  be 
ginning  to  look  at  me. 

It  began  to  force  itself  upon  me  that  I  must  go  back 
to  Yarick-street  after  all,  and  take  a  fresh  start. 
Then  I  began  to  think  how  I  should  get  back,  on 
which  side  must  I  go  to  find  the  cars — where  was  I, 
literally.  Then  I  sat  down  to  wait,  till  I  should  see 
some  policeman,  or  some  kind-looking  person,  near 
me,  to  whom  I  could  apply  for  this  very  necessary 
information.  In  the  meantime  I  took  out  my  purse 
to  see  if  I  had  the  proper  change.  Verily,  not  that, 

nor  any  change  at  all !     My  heart  actually  stood  still. 

12 


266  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

Yes,  it  was  very  true :  I  had  given  away,  right  and 
left,  during  this  Lent :  caring  nothing  for  money,  and 
being  very  sure  of  more  when  this  was  gone.  I  was 
literally  penniless.  I  had  not  even  the  money  to  ride 
home  in  the  cars. 

Till  a  person  has  felt  this  sensation,  he  has  not  had 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  experiences  of  life.  To 
know  where  you  can  get  money,  to  feel  that  there  is 
some  dernier  ressort,  however  hateful  to  you,  is  one 
thing ;  but  to  know  that  you  have  not  a  cent — not  a 
prospect  of  getting  one — not  a  hope  of  earning  one — 
no  means  of  living — this  is  suffocation.  This  is  the 
stopping  of  that  breath  that  keeps  the  world  alive. 

The  bench  on  which  I  happened  to  be  sitting  was 
one  of  those  pretty,  little,  covered  seats,  which  jut  out 
into  the  lake.  I  looked  down  into  the  water  as  I  sat 
with  my  empty  purse  in  my  lap,  and  remembered 
vaguely  the  many  narratives  I  had  seen  in  the  news 
papers  about  unaccounted-for  and  unknown  suicides. 
I  could  see  how  it  might  be  inevitable — a  sort  of 
pressure,  a  fatality  that  might  not  J)e  resisted.  Even 
cowardice  might  be  overcome  when  that  pressure 
was  put  on. 

It  is  a  very  amazing  thing  to  feel  that  you  have  no 
money,  nor  any  means  of  getting  even  eightpence :  it 
chokes  you :  you  feel  as  if  the  wheel  had  made  its  last 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  267 

revolution,  and  there  was  no  power  to  make  it  turn 
again.  It  is  not  any  question  of  pride,  or  of  inde 
pendence,  when  it  comes  suddenly ;  it  is  a  feeling  of 
the  inevitable ;  you  do  not  turn  to  others.  You  feel 
your  individual  failure,  and  you  stand  alone. 

For  myself,  this  was  my  reflection :  I  had  not  even  a 
shelter  for  my  head ;  Richard  had  said  so.  I  had  not 
a  cent  of  money,  and  I  had  no  means  of  earning  any. 
The  uncle  who  was  coming  to  take  possession  of 
the  house  and  furniture,  was  one  whom  I  had  been 
taught  to  distrust  and  dread.  He  would,  perhaps, 
not  even  let  rne  go  into  my  room  again,  and  would 
turn  me  out  to-morrow,  if  he  came :  my  clothes — were 
they  even  mine,  or  would  they  be  given  to  me,  if  they 
were  ?  This  uncle  had  reproached  Uncle  Leonard 
once  for  what  he  had  done  for  me.  I  had  even  an 
idea  that  it  was  about  my  mother's  marriage  that  the 
quarrel  had  occurred.  And  hard  as  I  had  regarded 
Uncle  Leonard,  he  had  been  the  soft-hearted  one  of 
the  brothers,  who  had  sheltered  the  little  girl  (after 
he  had  thrown  off  the  mother,  and  broken  her  poor 
heart). 

The  house  in  Yarick-street  would  be  broken  up. 
What  would  become  of  the  cook,  and  Ann  Coddle  ? 
It  would  be  easier  for  them  to  live  than  for  me. 

They  could  get  work  to  do,  for  they  knew  how  to 


268  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

work,  and  people  would  employ  them.  I— I  could  do 
nothing,  I  had  been  taught  to  do  nothing.  I  had 
never  been  directed  how  to  hem  a  handkerchief.  I 
had  tried  to  dust  my  room"  one  day,  and  the  effort 
had  tired  me  dreadfully,  and  did  not  look  very  well, 
as  a  result.  I  could  not  teach.  I  had  been  educated 
in  a  slipshod  way,  no  one  directing  anything  about 
it — just  what  it  occurred  to  the  person  who  had 
charge  of  me  to  put  before  me. 

I  had  intended  to  throw  myself  upon  Sister  Mad 
eline.  But  what  then  ?  What  could  she  have  done 
for  me  ?  I  had  asked  her  months  before  if  I  could 
not  be  a  sister,  and  had  been  discouraged  both  by 
her  and  by  my  director.  I  believe  they  thought  I 
was  too  young  and  too  pretty,  and,  in  fact,  had  no 
vocation.  No  doubt  they  thought  I  might  soon  look 
upon  things  differently,  when  my  trouble  was  a  little 
older. 

And  Richard — I  did  not  give  Richard  many 
thoughts  that  day,  for  my  heart  was  sore,  when  I 
remembered  all  his  words.  He  had  always  thought 
that  I  was  to  be  rich ;  perhaps  that  had  made  him  so 
long  patient  with  me.  He  had  said  I  was  not  clever ; 
he  had  seemed  to  be  very  sorry  for  me.  He  might 
well  be.  Sophie  had  asked  him  if  he  were  still  bound 
to  me.  I  had  not  heard  all  his  answer,  but  he  had 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  269 

spoken  in  a  tone  of  scorn.     I  did  not  want  to  think 
about  him. 

There  was  no  whither  to  turn  myself  for  help. 
And  the  clergyman,  who  had  been  more  than  kind 
to  me,  who  had  seemed  to  help  me  with  words  and 
counsel  out  of  heaven, — he  was  cut  off  from  my  succor, 
and  I  stood  alone — I,  who  was  so  dependent,  so 
naturally  timid,  and  so  easily  mistaken. 

It  was  a  dreary  hour  of  my  life,  that  hour  that  I 
sat  looking  over  at  the  water  of  the  pretty  placid 
lake.  I  don't  like  to  recall  it.  Some  one  passed  by 
me,  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  came  back 
hastily.  It  was  Richard.  He  seemed  so  glad,  and  so 
relieved  to  see  me — and  to  me  it  was  like  Heaven 
opening;  notwithstanding  my  vindictive  thoughts 
about  him,  I  could  have  sprung  into  his  arms ;  I  felt 
protected,  safe,  the  moment  he  was  by  me.  I  tried 
to  speak,  and  then  began  to  cry. 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you  these  last  two  hours," 
he  said,  sitting  down  beside  me.  "  I  came  up-tow*n 
to  see  you,  and  found  you  had  gone  out.  I  thought 
you  would  not  be  likely  to  go  anywhere  but  to  see 
Sister  Madeline,  and  there  the  servant  told  me  you 
had  come  this  way.  I  could  not  find  you  here,  and 
went  back  to  Yarick-street,  then  was  frightened  at  >, 
hearing  you  had  not  come  back,  and  returned  again 


270  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

to  look  for  you.  What  made  you  stay  so  long? 
Something  has  happened.  Tell  me  what  you  are 
crying  for." 

I  had  no  talent  for  acting,  and  not  much  discre 
tion  when  I  was  excited  ;  and  he  found  out  very  soon 
that  I  knew  what  had  befallen  me.  (I  think  he 
believed  that  Sophie  had  told  me  of  it.) 

"  Were  you  very  much  surprised  ? "  he  said.  "  Had 
you  supposed  that  you  would  be  his  heiress  ? " 

"  Why,  no.  I  had  not  thought  anything  about  it. 
I  am  afraid  I  have  not  thought  much  about  anything 
this  winter.  I  must  have  been  very  ungrateful,  as 
well  as  childish,  for  I  never  have  felt  as  if  it  were 
fortunate  that  I  had  a  home,  and  as  much  money  as 
I  wanted.  I  did  not  care  anything  about  being  rich, 
you  know — ever." 

"  No,  I  know  you  did  not.  I  was  sure  you  would 
have  been  satisfied  with  a  very  moderate  provi 
sion." 

"  Oh,  Richard,"  I  cried,  clasping  my  hands  together, 
"  if  he  had  left  me  a  little— just  a  little— just  a  few 
hundred  dollars,  when  he  had  so  much,  to  have  kept 
me  from  having  to  work,  when  I  don't  know  how  to 
work,  and  am  such  a  child." 

"  Work ! "  he  exclaimed,  looking  down  at  me  as  if  I 
were  something  so  exquisite  and  so  precious,  that  the 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK  271 

very  thought  was  profanation.  "  Work  !  no,  Pauline, 
you  shall  not  have  to  work." 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?  "  I  said,  "  I  have  nothing — 
and  you  know  it ;  not  a  shelter ;  not  the  money  to 
pay  for  my  breakfast  to-morrow  morning.  !Nbt  a 
person  to  whom  I  have  a  right  to  go  for  help ;  not  a 
human  being  who  is  bound  to  care  for  me.  Oh,  I  don't 
care  what  becomes  of  me ;  I  wish  that  it  were  time 
for  me  to  die." 

Richard  got  up,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  little 
platform  with  an  absorbed  look. 

"  It  was  so  strange,"  I  went  on,  "  when  he  seemed: 
this  winter  to  take  a  little  notice  of  me,  and  to  want 
to  have  me  near  him.  I  really  almost  thought  he 
cared  for  me.  And  when  I  was  so  ill  last  Fall,  don't 
you  remember  how  often  he  used  to  come  up  to  my 
room  ?" 

"  I  remember — yes.    It  is  all  very  strange." 

"And  some  days  early  in  the  winter,  when  I 
could  scarcely  speak  at  table,  I  was  so  unhappy,  he 
would  look  at  me  so  long,  and  seem  to  think.  And 
then  would  be  very  kind  and  gentle  afterward,  and 
do  something  to  show  he  liked  me — give  me  money, 
you  know,  as  he  always  did." 

"  Tell  me,  Pauline :  did  he  ever  ask  you  anything 
about  last  summer,  or  did  you  ever  tell  him  ?" 


272  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

"  ISTo,  Richard,  I  could  never  have  spoken  to  him 
about  it ;  and  he  never  asked  me.  But  I  know  he 
saw  that  I  was  not  happy." 

"Pauline,"  said  Richard,  after  a  pause,  and  as  if 
forcing  himself  to  speak,  "  there  is  no  use  in  disguis 
ing  from  you  what  your  position  is :  you  know  it 
yourself,  enough  pf  it,  at  least,  to  make  you  under 
stand  why  I  speak  now.  I  don't,  know  of  any  way 
out  of  it,  but  one ;  and  I  feel  as  if  it  were  ungenerous 
to  press  that  on  you  now,  and,  Heaven  knows,  I  would 
not  do  it  if  I  could  think  of  anything  else  to  offer  to 
you.  You  know,  Pauline,  that  if  you  will  marry  me, 
you  will  have  everything  that  you  need,  as  much  as  if 
your  uncle  had  left  you  everything." 

He  did  not  look  at  me,  but  paced  up  and  down  the 
platform,  and  spoke  with  a  thick,  husky  voice. 

"  You  know  it's  been  the  object  of  my  life,  ever 
since  I  knew  you,  but  I  don't  want  that  to  influence 
you.  I  know  it  is  too  sopn,  a  great  deal  too  soon. 
And  I  would  not  have  done  it,  if  I  could  have  seen 
anything  else  to  do,  or  if  you  could  have  done  with 
out  me." 

I  must  have  been  deadly  pale,  for  when  at  last  he 
looked  at  me,  he  started. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  he  said,  with  a  groan,  u  I 
always  have  to  give  you  pain,  when,  Heaven  knows, 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK.  273 

I'd  give  my  life  to  spare  you  every  suffering.  I  can't 
see  any  other  way  to  take  care  of  you  than  the  way  I 
tell  you  of,  and  yet,  I  have  no  doubt  you  think  me 
cruel,  and  selfish,  to  ask  you  to  do  it  now.  It  does 
seem  so,  and  yet  it  is  not.  If  you  knew  how  much  it 
has  cost  me  to  speak,  you  would  believe  it." 

"  I  do  believe  it,"  I  said,  trying  to  command  my 
voice.  "  I  think  you  have  always  been  too  good  and 
kind  to  me.  .But  I  can't  tell  you  how  this  makes 
me  feel.  Oh,  Richard,  isn't  there  any,  any  other 
way  ?" 

"  Perhaps  there  may  be,"  he  said,  with  a  bitter 
and  disappointed  look,  "  but  I  do  not  know  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Richard,  do  not  be  angry  with  me.  Think 
how  hard  it  is  for  me  always  to  be  disappointing  you. 
I  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  !" 

"  Yes,  Pauline,  I  know  you  have,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  by  me,  and  taking  my  hand  in  a  repentant  way. 
"  You  see  I'm  selfish,  and  only  looked  at  my  own 
disappointment  just  that  minute.  I  thought  I  had 
not  any  hope  that  you  might  not  mind  the  idea  of 
marrying  me ;  but  you  see,  after  all,  I  had.  I  believe 
I  must  have  fancied  that  you  were  getting  over  your 
trouble:  you  have  seemed  so  much  brighter  lately. 
But  now  I  know  the  truth ;  and  now  I  know  that 

what  I  do  is  simply  sacrifice  and  duty.     A  man  must 

12* 


274  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

be  a  fool  who  looks  for  pleasure  in  marrying  a  woman 
who  has  no  love  for  him.  And  I  say  now,  in  the 
face  of  it  all,  marry  me,  Pauline,  if  you  can  bring 
yourself  to  do  it.  I  am  the  only  approach  to  a  friend 
that  you  have  in  the  world.  As  your  husband,  I  can 
care  for  you  and  protect  you.  You  are  young,  your 
character  is  unformed,  you  are  ignorant  of  the  world. 
You  have  no  home,  no  protection,  literally  none,  and 
I  am  afraid  to  trust  you.  You  need  not  be  angry  if 
I  say  so.  I  think  I've  earned  the  right  to  find  some 
faults  in  you.  I  don't  expect  you  to  love  me.  I  don't 
expect  to  be  particularly  happy  ;  but  there  are  a  good 
many  ways  of  serving  God  and  doing  one's  duty ; 
and  if  we  try  to  serve  him  and  to  live  for  duty,  it 
will  all  come  out  right  at  last.  You  will  be  a  happier 
woman,  Pauline,  if  you  do  it,  than  if  you  rebel  against 
it,  and  try  to  find  some  other  way,  and  put  yourself  in 
a  subordinate  place,  or  a  place  of  dependence,  and 
waste  your  life,  and  expose  yourself  to  temptation. 
No,  no,  Pauline,  I  cannot  see  you  do  it.  Heaven 
knows,  I  wish  you  had  somebody  else  to  direct  you. 
But  it  has  all  come  upon  me,  and  I  must  do  the  best 
I  can.  I  think  any  one  else  would  advise  the  same, 
who  had  the  same  means  of  judging." 

"  I  will  do  just  what  you  think  best,"  I  said,  almost 
in  a  whisper,  getting  up. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  275 

"  That  is  right,"  he  answered,  in  a  husky  voice, 
rising  too,  and  putting  my  cloak  about  my  shoul 
ders,  which  had  fallen  off.  "  You  will  see  it  will 
be  best." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    GREAT  DEAL   TOO   SOON. 

But  her  sad  eyes,  still  fastened  on  the  ground, 
Are  governed  with  a  goodly  modesty, 
That  suffers  not  a  look  to  glance  away, 
Which  may  let  in  a  little  thought  unsound. 

Spenser. 

Vouloir  ce  que  Dieu  veut  est  la  seule  science 
Qui  nous  met  en  repos. 

Malherbe. 

RIOHAED  had  obtained  for  me  (with  difficulty), 
from  the  lawyer  of  the  new  uncle  who  had  arisen,  the 
privilege  of  remaining  in  the  house  for  another  month, 
undisturbed  in  any  way.  At  the  end  of  those  four 
weeks  I  was  to  be  married  to  him,  one  day,  quietly  in 
church,  and  to  go  away.  It  was  very  hard  to  have 
to  see  Sophie,  and  be  treated  with  ignominy,  for 
doing  what  I  did  not  want  to  do ;  it  was  very  hard  to 
make  preparations  to  leave  the  only  place  I  wanted  to 
stay  in  now  ;  it  was  very  hard  to  be  tranquil  and  even, 
while  my  heart  was  like  lead.  But  I  had  begun  to 
discover  that  that  was  the  general  order  of  things  here 
below,  and  it  did  not  amaze  me  as  it  had  done  at  first- 


BICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  2TT 

I  was  doing  my  duty,  to  the  best  of  my  discernment, 
and  was  not  to  be  deterred  by  all  the  lead  in  the 
world. 

It  was  very  well  for  Hi  chard  to  say,  he  did  it  for 
sacrifice  and  for  duty.  I  have  no  doubt  at  first  he 
did  it  greatly  for  those  two  things:  but  he  grew 
happier  every  day,  I  could  see.  He  was  very  consid 
erate  of  my  sadness,  and  always  acted  on  the  basis  on 
which  our  engagement  was  begun,  never  keeping  my 
hand  in  his,  or  kissing  me,  or  asking  any  of  the 
trifling  favors  of  a  lover. 

He  was  grave  and  silent :  but  I  could  see  the 
change  in  his  face;  I  could  see  that  he  was  more 
exacting  of  every  moment  that  I  spent  away  from 
him ;  he  kept  near  me,  and  followed  me  with  his  eyes, 
and  seemed  never  to  be  satisfied  with  his  possession 
of  me. 

He  bought  me  the  most  beautiful  jewels,  (he  had 
made  great  strides  toward  fortune  in  the  last  six 
months,  and  was  a  rich  man  now  in  earnest,)  and 
though  he  never  clasped  them  on  my  throat  or  wrist, 
nor  even  fitted  a  ring  on  my  finger,  I  could  feel  his 
eyes  upon  me,  hungering  for  a  smile,  a  word  of  grati 
tude. 

And  who  would  not  have  been  grateful  ?  But  it 
was  "  too  soon,  a  great  deal  too  soon,"  as  he  had  said 


278  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

himself.  I  was  very  grateful,  but  I  would  have  been 
glad  to  die. 

I  have  wondered  whether  he  saw  it  or  not.  I 
rather  think  not.  I  was  very  submissive  and  gentle, 
and  tried  to  be  bright,  and  I  think  he  wa?  so  absorbed 
in  the  satisfaction  of  my  promise,  so  intent  upon  his 
plans  for  making  me  happy,  and  for  making  me  love 
him,  that  he  made  himself  believe  there  was  no  heart 
of  lead  below  the  tranquillity  he  saw. 

It  was  the  third  week  since  my  uncle's  ,  death. 
The  next  week  was  to  come  the  marriage,  on  Wed 
nesday,  the  19th  of  May.-" 

"  Marriages  in  May  are  not  hap-  y,"  said  Ann 
Coddle. 

"  I  did  not  need  you  to  tell  me  that,"  I  thought. 

It  was  on  Thursday,  the  13th ;  Eichard  had  come 
up  a  little  earlier,  in  the  evening.  It  grew  to  be  a 
little  earlier  every  evening. 

"  By-and-by  he  will  not  go  'down-town  at  all,  at 
this  rate,"  I  said  to  myself,  when  I  heard  his  ring 
that  night. 

I  was  sitting  by  the  parlor-lamp,  with  the  evening 
paper  in  my  lap,  of  which  I  had  not  read  a  word. 
He  came  and  sat  down  by  the  table,  and  we  talked  a 
little  while.  I  tried  to  find  things  to  talk  about,  and 
wondered  if  it  always  would  be  so.  I  felt  as  if  some 


RICHARD  VANDERMAROK  279 

day  I  should  give  out  entirely,  and  hate  to  go  through 
bankruptcy.  (And  take  a  fresh  start.) 

He  never  seemed  to  feel  the  want  of  talking ;  I 
suppose  he  was  quite  satisfied  with  his  thoughts,  and 
with  having  me  beside  him. 

By-and-by,  he  said  he  should  have  to  go  up  to 
the  library,  and  look  over  the  last  of  some  books  of 
my  uncle's,  and  finish  an  inventory  that  he  had 
begun.  Could  I  not  bring  my  work  and  sit  there 
by  him  ?  I  felt  a  little  selfish,  for  we  were  already 
on  the  last  week,  and  I  said  I  thought  I  would  sit 
in  the  parlor.  I  had  to  write  a  letter  to  Sister  Made 
line.  I  had  not  heard  a  word  from  her  yet,  though 
I  had  written  twice. 

"Why  could  not  I  write  in  the  library  ? 

I  always  liked  to  be  alone  when  I  wrote  letters : 
I  could  not  think,  when  any  one  was  in  the  room. 
Besides,  trying  to  smile,  he  would  be  sure  to  talk. 

He  looked  disappointed,  and  lingered  a  good  while 
before  he  went  away.  As  he  rose  to  go  away  he 
threw  into  my  lap  a  little  package,  saying, 

"  There  is  some  white  lace  for  you.  Can't  you  use 
it  on  some  of  your  clothes  ?  I  don't  know  anything 
about  such  things  :  maybe  it  isn't  pretty  enough, 
but  I  thought  perhaps  it  would  do  for  that  lilac  silk 
you  talked  of." 


280  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

I  opened  the  package :  it  was  exquisite,  fit  for  a 
princess ;  and  as  I  bent  over  it,  I  thought,  how  dead  I 
must  be,  that  it  gave  me  no  pleasure  to  know  it  was 
my  own,  for  I  had  loved  such  baubles  so,  a  year 
ago. 

"  What  a  mass  of  it !  "  I  exclaimed,  unfolding  yard 
on  yard. 

"You  must  always  wear  lace,"  he  said,  throwing 
one  end  of  it  over  my  black  dress  around  the 
shoulder.  "  I  like  you  in  it.  I  am  tired  of  those 
stiff'  little  linen  collars." 

The  lace  had  given  me  a  little  compunction  about 
not  spending  the  evening  with  him :  but  as  I  had 
said  so,  I  could  not  draw  back ;  so  I  compromised 
the  matter  by  going  up  to  the  library  with  him,  to  see 
that  he  was  comfortable,  before  I  came  down  to  write 
my  letter. 

I  brought  the  little  student-lamp  from  my  own  room 
and  lit  it,  and  put  it  on  the  library-table,  and  brought 
him  some  fresh  pens,  and  opened  the  inkstand  for 
him,  even  pushed  up  the  chair  and  put  a  little  foot 
stool  by  it.  Though  he  was  standing  by  the  book 
shelves,  and  seemed  to  be  engrossed  by  them,  I  knew 
that  he  was  watching  me,  filled  with  content  and 
satisfaction. 

"  Do  you  remember  where  that  box  of  cigars  waa 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  281 

put  ? "  lie  said,  turning  to  me  as  I  paused.  That  was 
to  keep  me  longer ;  for  they  were  on  the  shelf,  half 
a  yard  from  where  he  stood. 

I  got  the  cigar-box  and  put  it  on  the  table. 

"  Now  you  will  want  some  matches,  and  this  stand 
is  almost  empty."  So  I  took  it  away  with  me  to  my 
room,  and  came  back  with  it  filled. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  that  I  can  do  ?  "  I  said, 
pausing  as  I  put  it  on  the  table. 

"  No,  Pauline.     I  believe  not.     Thank  you." 

I  think  that  moment  Richard  was  nearer  to 
happiness  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  Poor  fel 
low  ! 

I  went  down-stairs,  feeling  quite  easy  in  mind,  and 
sat  down  to  my  letter.  That  threw  me  back  into  the 
past,  for  to  Sister  Madeline  I  poured  out  my  heart. 
An  hour  went  by,  and  I  had  forgotten  Richard  and 
the  library.  I  was  recalled  to  the  present  by  hearing 
some  books  fall  on  the  floor  (the  library  was  over  the 
parlor) ;  and  by  hearing  Richard's  step  heavily  cross 
ing  the  room.  I  started  up,  pushed  my  letter  into  my 
portfolio,  and  wiped  away  my  tears,  quite  frightened 
that  Richard  should  see  me  crying.  To  my  surprise, 
he  came  hurriedly  down  the  stairs,  passed  the  parlor- 
door,  opened  the  hall-door,  and  shutting  it  heavily 
after  him,  was  gone,  without  a  word  to  me.  This 


282  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

startled  me  for  a  moment,  it  was  so  unusual.  But  my 
heart  was  not  enough  engaged  to  be  wounded  by  the 
slight,  and  I  very  soon  returned  to  my  letter  and  my 
other  thoughts. 

When  I  went  up  to  bed,  I  stopped  in  the  library, 
and  found  the  lamp  still  burning,  the  pens  unused,  a 
cigar,  which  had  been  lighted,  but  unsmoked,  lying 
on  the  table.  A  book  was  lying  on  the  floor  at  the 
foot  of  the  bookshelf,  where  I  had  left  Richard  stand 
ing.  I  picked  it  up.  "  This  was  the  last  book  that 
Uncle  Leonard  ever  read,"  I  said  to  myself,  turning 
its  pages  over.  I  remembered  that  he  had  it  in  his 

i       O 

hand  the  last  night  of  his  life,  when  I  bade  him  good 
night.  I  was  not  in  the  room  the  next  day,  till  he 
was  brought  home  in  a  dying  state. 

Ann  had  put  the  books  in  order,  and  arranged  them, 
after  he  weat  down-town  in  the  morning. 

I  wondered  whether  Richard  knew  that  that 
was  the  last  book  he  had  been  reading,  and  I  put 
it  by,  to  tell  him  of  it  in  the  morning  when  he 
came.  But  in  the  morning  Richard  did  not  come. 
Unusual  again;  and  I  was  for  an  hour  or  two 
surprised.  He  always  found  some  excuse  for  com 
ing  on  his  way  down-town :  and  it  was  very  odd 
that  he  should  not  want  to  explain  his  sudden  going 
away  last  night.  But,  as  before,  my  lack  of  love  made 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  283 

the  wound  very  slight,  and  in  a  little  time  I  had 
forgotten  all  about  it,  and  was  only  thinking  that 
this  was  Friday — and  that  "Wednesday  was  coming 
very  near. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  REVERSAL 

All  this  is  to  be  sanctified, 

This  rupture  with  the  past ; 
For  thus  we  die  before  our  deaths, 

And  so  die  well  at  last. 

Fdber. 

DiNNER-time  came,  and  passed,  and  still  Richard 
did  not  come.  At  eight  o'clock  Ann  brought  the 
tea,  as  usual,  and  it  stood  nearly  an  hour  upon  the 
table ;  and  then  I  told  her  to  take  it  away. 

By  this  time  I  had  begun  to  feel  uneasy.  Some 
thing  must  have  happened.  It  would  necessarily  be 
something  uncomfortable,  perhaps  something  that 
would  frighten  me,  and  give  me  another  shock.  And 
I  dreaded  that  so ;  I  had  had  so  many.  But  perhaps, 
dreadful  though  it  might  be,  it  would  bring  me  a 
release.  Perhaps  Richard  was  only  angry  with  me, 
and  that  might  bring  me  a  release. 

At  nine  o'clock  I  heard  a  ring  at  the  bell,  and  then 
his  step  in  the  hall.  He  was  slower  than  usual  in 
coming  in;  everything  made  me  feel  confused  and 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK.  285 

apprehensive.  When  he  opened  the  door  and  en 
tered,  I  was  trying  to  command  myself,  but  I  forgot 
all  about  myself  when  I  saw  Mm.  His  face  was 
white,  and  he  looked  haggard  and  harassed,  as  if  he 
had  gone  through  a  year  of  suffering  since  last  night, 
when  I  left  him.  with  the  lamp  and  cigar  in  the 
library. 

I  started  up  and  put  out  my  hand.  "  What  is  it, 
Kichard  ?  You  are  in  some  trouble." 

He  said  no,  and  tried  to  speak  in  an  ordinary  tone, 
sitting  down  on  the  sofa  by  my  chair. 

I  was  confused  and  thrown  back  by  this,  and  tried 
to  talk  as  if  nothing  had  been  said. 

"  Will  you  have  a  cup  of  tea  ? "  I  asked ;  "  Ann 
has  just  taken  it  away." 

He  said  absently,  yes,  and  I  rang  for  Ann  to  bring 
the  tea,  and  then  went  to  the  table  to  pour  it  out. 

He  sat  with  his  face  leaning  on  his  hand  on  the 
arm  of  the  sofa,  and  did  not  seem  to  notice  me  till 
I  carried  the  cup  to  him,  and  offered  it.  Then  he 
started,  and  looked  up  and  took  it,  asking  my  pardon, 
and  thanking  me. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  have  one  yourself?"  he  said, 
half  rising. 

"No,  I  don't  want  any  to-night.  Tell  me  if 
yours  is  right." 


286  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  nice,"  he  said  absently,  drinking 
some.  Then  rising  suddenly,  he  put  the  cup  on  the 
mantleshelf,  and  said  to  me,  "Send  Ann  away,  I 
want  to  talk  to  you." 

I  told  Ann  I  would  ring  for  her  when  I  wanted 
her,  and  sat  down  by  the  lamp  again,  with  many 
apprehensions. 

"  You  asked  me  if  anything  had  happened,  Pau 
line,  didn't  you  ? "  he  said. 

"No,"  I  answered.  " But  I  was  sure  that  something 
had,  from  the  way  you  looked  when  you  came  in." 

"  It  is  something  that — that  changes  things  very 
much  for  you,  Pauline,"  he  resumed,  with  an  effort, 
"  and  makes  all  our  arrangements  unnecessary — that 
is,  unless  you  choose." 

I  looked  amazed  and  frightened,  and  he  went 
on. 

"I  made  a  discovery  last  night  in  the  library. 
The  will  is  found,  Pauline." 

I  started  to  my  feet,  with  my  hands  pressed  against 
my  heart,  waiting  breathlessly  for  his  next  word. 

"  Everything  is  left  to  you — and  I  have  come  to 
tell  you,  you  are  free — if  you  desire  to  be." 

"Oh,  thank  God!  Thank  God!"  I  cried;  then 
covering  my  face  with  my  hands,  sank  back  into  my 
seat,  and  burst  into  tears. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  287 

He  turned  from  me  and  walked  to  the  other  end  of 
the  room ;  each  of  us  lived  much  in  that  little  time. 

For  myself,  I  had  accepted  my  bondage  so  meekly, 
so  dutifully,  that  I  did  not  know  the  weight  it  had 
been  upon  me  till  it  was  suddenly  taken  off.  I  did 
not  think  of  him — I  could  only  think,  there  was  no 
next  Wednesday,  and  I  could  stay  where  I  was.  It 
was  like  the  sudden  cessation  of  dreadful  and  long-con 
tinued  pain :  it  was  Heaven.  I  was  crying  for  joy.  But 
at  last  the  reaction  came,  and  I  had  to  think  of  him. 

"  Oh,  Richard,"  I  cried,  going  toward  him,  (he  was 
sitting  by  the  window,  and  his  hand  concealed  his 
eyes.)  "  I  don't  know  what  you  think  of  ine,  I  hope 
you  can  forgive  me." 

He  did  not  speak,  and  I  felt  a  dreadful  pang  of 
self-reproach. 

"  Richard,"  I  said,  crying,  and  taking  hold  of  his 
hand,  "  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  for  being  glad.  I 
will  marry  you  yet,  if  you  want  me  to.  I  know  how 
good  you  have  been  to  me.  I  know  I  am  ungrateful 
and  abominable." 

Still  he  did  not  speak.  His  very  lips  were  white, 
and  his  hand,  when  I  touched  it,  did  not  meet  mine 
or  move. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me,"  I  cried,  bursting  into  a 
flood  of  tears.  "  Oh,  how  you  ought  to  hate  me.  Oh, 


288  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

I  wish'we  had  nearer  seen  each  other.  I  wish  I  had 
been  dead  before  I  brought  you  all  this  trouble. 
Richard,  do  look  at  me — do  speak  to  me.  Don't  you 
believe  that  I  am  sorry  ?  Don't  you  know  I  will  do 
anything  you  want  me  to  ?" 

He  seemed  to  try  to  speak — moved  a  little,  as  a  per 
son  in  pain  might  do,  but,  bending  his  head  a  little 
lower  on  his  hand,  was  silent  still. 

"Richard,"  I  said,  after  several  moments'  silence, 
speaking  thoughtfully — "  it  has  all  come  to  me  at  last. 
I  begin  to  see  what  you  have  been  to  me  always,  and 
how  badly  I  have  treated  you.  But  it  must  have  been 
because  I  was  very  young,  and  did  not  think.  I  am 
sure  my  heart  was  not  so  bad,  and  I  mean  to  be 
different  now.  You  know  I  have  not  had  any  one 
to  teach  me.  Will  you.  let  me  try  and  make  you 
happy?" 

"  E"o,  Pauline,"  he  said  at  last,  speaking  with  effort. 
"It  is  all  over  now,  and  we  will  never  talk  of  it 
again." 

I  was  silent  for  many  minutes — standing  before  him 
with  irresolution.  "  If  it  was  right  for  me  to  marry 
you  before,"  I  said  at  last,  "  Why  is  it  not  right  now, 
if  I  mean  to  do  my  duty  ?" 

"E"o,  it  is  no  longer  right,  if  it  ever  was,"  he 
answered.  "  I  will  not  take  advantage  of  your  sense 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  289 

of  duty  now,  as  I  was  going  to  take  advantage  of 
your  necessity  before.  No,  you  are  free,  and  it  is  all 
at  an  end." 

"  You  are  unjust  to  yourself.  You  were  not  taking 
advantage  of  ray  necessity.  You  were  saving  me, 
and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  think  of 
everything.  Oh,  Richard,  where  did  you  learn  to  be 
so  good !" 

A  spasm  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  and  he  turned 
away  from  me. 

"  If  you  give  me  up,"  I  said  timidly,  "  who  will 
take  care  of  me  ?" 

"  There  will  be  plenty  now,"  he  answered  bitterly. 

"  There  wasn't  anybody  yesterday." 

"  But  there  will  be  to-morrow.  No,  Pauline,"  he 
said,  lifting  his  head  and  speaking  in  a  firmer  voice, 
"  What  I  thought  I  was  doing,  till  this  showed  me 
my  heart,  and  how  I  had  deceived  myself,  I  will  do 
now,  even  if  it  kills  me.  I  thought  I  was  acting  for 
your  good,  and  from  a  sense  of  duty:  now  that  I 
know  what  is  for  your  good,  and  what  is  my  duty,  I 
will  go  on  in  that,  and  nothing  shall  turn  me  from 
it,  so  help  me  Heaven." 

"At  least  you  will  forgive  me,"  I  said,  with 
tears,  "  for  all  the  things  that  I  have  made  you  suf 
fer." 

13 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  some  emotion,  "I  shall  for 
give  you  sooner  than  I  shall  forgive  myself.  I  cannot 
see  that  you  have  been  to  blame." 

"  Ah,"  I  cried,  hiding  my  face  with  shame,  when  I 
thought  of  all  my  selfishness  and  indifference,  and  the 
return  I  had  made  him  for  his  devoted  love.  ".I  know 
how  I  have  been  to  blame ;  and  I  am  going  to  pay 
you  for  your  goodness  and  care  by  breaking  your 
heart  for  you — by  upsetting  all  your  plans.  Oh,  Hi  ch 
ard  !  You  had  better  let  it  all  go  on !  Think  how 
everybody  knows  about  it !" 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  care  a  straw  for  that," 
he  said.  And  I  am  sure  he  did  not. 

"JSTo,"  he  said  firmly,  getting  up,  and  walking  up 
and  down  the  room;  "it  is  all  over,  and  we  must 
make  the  best  of  it.  I  shall  still  have  everything  to 
do  for  you  under  the  will ;  and  while  you  mustn't  ex 
pect  me  to  see  you  often,  just  for  the  present  time,  at 
least,  you  know  I  shall  do  everything  as  faithfully  as 
if  nothing  had  occurred.  You  must  write  to  me  when 
ever  you  think  my  judgment  or  advice  would  do  you 
any  good.  And  I  shall  be  always  looking  after  things 
that  you  don't  understand,  and  taking  care  of  your 
interests,  whether  you  hear  from  me  or  not.  You'll 
always  be  sure  of  that,  whatever  may  occur." 

"  Oh,"  I  faltered,  with  a  sudden  frightened  feeling 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  291 

of  loneliness  and  loss,  in  the  midst  of  my  new  free 
dom,  "  I  can't  feel  as  if  it  were  all  over." 

"  I  don't  know  how  this  terrible  mistake  about  the 
will  occurred,"  he  went  on,  without  noticing  what  I 
said :  "  it  was  only  a — mercy  that  I  found  it  when 
I  did.  It  was  between  the  leaves  of  a  book,  an  old 
^  jlume  of  Tacitus;  I  took  it  down  to  look  at  the  title 
for  the  inventory,  and  it  fell  out." 

"  That  was  the  book  he  had  in  his  hand  when  1  saw 
him  last,  that  night  before  he  died." 

"Yes?  Then  after  you  went  up-stairs  I  suppose  he 
was  thinking  of  you,  and  he  took  out  the  will  to 
read  it  over,  and  maybe  left  it  out,  meaning  to  lock 
it  up  again  in  the  morning." 

"'And  in  the  morning  he  was  not  well,"  I  said, 
"and  perhaps  went  away  leaving  it  lying  on  the 
book;  I  remember,  Ann  said  there  were  several 
papers  lying  on  the  table,  when  she  arranged  the 
room." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Richard,  "  she  shut  it  up  in  the 
book  it  laid  on,  and  put  it  on  the  shelf.  But  it  is  all 
one  how  it  came  about.  The  will  is  all  correct  and 
duly  executed.  One  of  the  witnesses  was  a  clerk, 
who  returned  yesterday  from  South  America,  where 
he  had  been  gone  for  several  months.  The  other  is 
lying  ill  at  his  home  in  "Westchester,  but  I  have  sent 


292  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

to-day  and  had  his  deposition  taken.  It  is  all  in 
order,  and  there  can  be  no  dispute." 

I  think  at  that  moment  I  should  have  been  glad  if 
it  had  been  found  invalid.  There  was  something  so 
inevitable  and  final  in  Richard's  plain  and  practical 
words. 

Evidently  a  great  change  had  come  in  my  life,  and 
I  could  not  help  it  if  I  would.  I  could  not  but  feel 
the  separation  from  the  person  upon  whom  I  had 
leaned  so  long,  and  who  had  done  everything  for  me, 
and  I  knew  this  separation  was  to  be  a  final  one ; 
Kiehard's  words  left  no  doubt  of  that. 

"What  you'd  better  do,"  he  said,  leaning  by  the 
mantelpiece,  "is  to  tell  the  servants  about  this — 
this— change  in  your  plans,  to-morrow ;  unpack,  and 
settle  the  house  to  stay  here  for  the  present.  In  the 
course  of  a  couple  of  months  it  will  be  time  enough  to 
make  up  your  mind  about  where  you  will  live.  I 
think,  till  the  will  is  admitted  and  all  that,  you  had 
better  keep  things  as  they  are,  and  make  no 
change." 

He  had  been  so  used  to  thinking  or  me,  that  he 
could  not  give  it  up  at  once.  "  I  will  tell  Sophie  to 
morrow,"  he  went  on.  "  It  will  not  be  necessary  for  you 
to  see  her  if  she  should  come  before  she  hears  of  it 
from  me,"  (Sophie  had  an  engagement  with  me  to 


RICHARD  VANDERMARGK  293 

go  out  on  the  following  morning.  He  seemed  to 
to  have  forgotten  nothing.) 

"  What  will  Sophie  think  of  me  ? "  I  said,  with  my 
eyes  on  the  floor.  "  Richard,  it  looks  very  bad  for 
me;  when  I  was  poor,  I  was  going  to  marry  you, 
and  now  that  I  have  money  left  me,  I  am  going  to 
break  it  off." 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  how  it  looks,"  he 
said,  "when  you  know  you  have  done  right ?  I  will 
tell  Sophie  the  truth,  that  it  was  my  doing  both 
times,  and  that  you  only  yielded  to  my  judgment 
in  the  matter.  Besides,  if  she  judges  you  harshly, 
it  need  not  make  much  matter  to  you.  You  will 
never  again  be  thrown  intimately  with  her,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  I  said  faintly.  I  was  being 
turned  out  of  my  world  very  fast,  and  it  was  not 
very  clear  what  I  -was  going  to  get  in  exchange  for 
it  (except  freedom). 

"  I  will  send  you  up  money  to-morrow  morning," 
he  went  on,  "  to  pay  the  servants,  and  all  that.  The 
clerk  I  shall  send  it  by,  is  the  one  that  I  shall  put  in 
charge  of  your  matters.  You  can  always  draw  on 
him  for  money,  or  ask  him  any  questions,  or  call  on 
him  for  any  service,  in  case  I  should  be  away,  or  ill, 
or  anything." 


294  RIVHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"You  are  going  away?"  I  said  interrogatively. 

"It  is  possible,  for  a  while — I  don't  know.  I 
haven't  made  up  my  mind  definitely  about  what  I 
am  going  to  do.  But  in  case  I  should  be  away,  I 
mean,  you  are  to  call  on  him." 

"  I  understand." 

"  Anything  he  tells  you,  about  signing  papers,  and 
such  things,  you  may  be  sure  is  all  right." 

"Yes." 

"But  don't  do  anything,  without  consulting  me, 
for  anybody  else,  remember." 

"I'll  remember,"  I  said  absently  and  humbly. 
It  was  no  wonder  Richard  felt  I  needed  somebody  to 
take  care  of  me ! 

"  I  believe  there's  nothing  else  I  wanted  to  say  to 
you,"  he  said  at  last,  moving  from  the  mantelpiece 
where  he  had  been  standing ;  "  at  least,  nothing  that 
I  can't  write  about,  when  it  occurs  to  me." 

"  Oh,  Richard !  "  I  said,  beginning  to  cry  again,  as  I 
knew  that  the  moment  of  parting  had  come,  "  I  don't 
understand  you  at  all.  I  think  you  take  it  very 
calm." 

"  Isn't  that  the  way  to  take  it  ? "  he  said,  in  a  voice 
that  was,  certainly,  very  calm  indeed. 

I  looked  up  in  his  face :  he  was  ten  years  older.  I 
really  was  frightened  at  the  change  in  him. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  295 

".  Oh !  "  I  exclaimed,  putting  my  face  down  in  my 
hands,  "  I  wasn't  worth  all  I've  made  you  suffer." 

"  Maybe  you  weren't,"  he  said  simply,  u  But  it 
wasn't  either,  your  fault  or  mine — and  you  couldn't 
help  it — that  I  wanted  you." 

He  made  a  quick  movement  as  he  passed  the  table, 
and  my  work-basket  fell  at  his  feet,  and  a  little  jewel- 
box  rolled  across  the  floor.  It  was  a  ring  he  had 
brought  me,  only  three  days  before. 

He  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  arid  I  saw  his  features 
contract  as  if  in  pain,  as  he  laid  it  back  upon  the  table. 
And  his  voice  was  unsteady,  as  he  said,  not  looking  at 
me  while  he  spoke, 

u  I  hope  you  won't  send  any  of  these  things  back. 
If  there's  anything  you're  willing  to  keep,  because  I 
gave  it  to  you,  I'd  like  it  very  much.  The  rest  send 
to  your  church,  or  somewhere.  I  don't  want  to  have 
to  look  at  them  again." 

By  this  time  I  was  sobbing,  and,  sitting  down  by  the 
table,  had  buried  my  face  on  my  arms. 

"  I'm  sorry  that  it  makes  you  feel  so,"  he  said, 
"but  it  can't  be  helped.  Don't  cry,  I  can't  bear  to  see 
you  cry.  Good-bye,  Pauline ;  God  bless  you." 

And  he  was  gone.  I  did  not  realize  it,  and  did 
not  lift  my  head,  till  I  heard  the  heavy  sound  of  the 
outer  door  closing  after  him. 


296  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK 

Then  I  knew  it  was  all  over,  and  that  things  were 
changed  for  me  indeed. 

"  I  cannot  cry  and  get  over  it  as  you  can/'  he  had 
said. 

And  if  tears  would  have  got  me  over  it,  I  should 
have  been  cured  that  night. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

MY   NEW    WORLD. 

Few  are  the  fragments  left  of  follies  past; 

For  worthless  things  are  transient.    Those  that  last 

Have  in  them  germs  of  an  eternal  spirit, 

And  out  of  good  their  permanence  inherit. 

Bowring. 

Nor  they  unblest, 

Who  underneath  the  world's  bright  vest 
With  sackcloth  tame  their  aching  breast, 

The  sharp-edged  cross  in  jewels  hide. 

KeUe. 

FKOM  eighteen  to  twenty -four — a  long  step ;  and  it 
covers  the  ground  that  is  generally  the  brightest  and 
gayest  in  a  woman's  life,  and  the  most  decisive.  With 
me  it  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  bright  and  gay  ;  but  the 
deciding  events  of  my  life  seemed  to  have  been 
crowded  into  the  year,  the  story  of  which  has  just 
been  told.  Of  the  six  years  that  came  after,  there  is 
not  much  to  tell.  My  character  went  on  forming 
itself,  no  doubt,  and  interiorly  I  was  growing  in 
one  direction  or  the  other ;  but  in  external  matters, 
there  is  not  much  of  interest. 

I  had  "  no  end  of  money,"  so  it  seemed  to  me,  and 
13*' 


298  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK 

to  a  good  many  other  people,  I  should  think,  from  the 
way  that  they  paid  me  court.  I  don't  see  why  it  did 
not  turn  my  head,  except  that  I  was  what  they  call 
religious,  and  dreadfully  afraid  of  doing  wrong.  I 
was  not  my  own  mistress  exactly,  either,  for  I  had 
some  one  to  direct  my  conscience,  though  that  was 
the  only  direction  that  I  ever  had.  I  had  not  the 
smallest  restriction  as  to  money  from  Richard  (to 
whom  the  estate  was  left  in  trust)  ;  and  it  had  been 
found  much  to  exceed  his  expectations,  or  those  of 
anybody  else. 

I  had  the  whole  world  before  me,  where  to  go  and 
what  to  choose ;  not  very  much  stability  of  character, 
and  the  greatest  ignorance ;  a  considerable  share  of 
good  looks,  and  the  love  of  pleasure  inseparable  from 
youth  and  health ;  absolutely  no  authority,  and  any 
amount  of  flattery  and  temptation.  I  think  it  must 
be  agreed,  it  was  a  happy  thing  for  me  that  I  was 
brought  under  the  influence  of  Sister  Madeline,  and 
that  through  her  I  was  made  to  feel  most  afraid 
of  sin,  and  of  myself;  and  that  the  life  within,  the 
growth  in  grace,  and  the  keeping  clear  my  conscience, 
was  made  to  appear  of  more  consequence  than  the 
life  without,  that  was  so  full  of  pleasures  and  of 
snares. 

I  often  think  now  of  the  obedience  with  which  I 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  299 

would  give  up  a  party,  stay  at  home  alone,  and  read 
a  good  book,  because  I  had  been  advised  to  do  it,  or 
because  it  was  a  certain  day ;  of  the  simplicity  with 
which  I  would  put  away  a  novel,  when  its  interest 
was  at  the  height,  because  it  was  vthe  hour  for  me  to 
read  something  different,  or  because  it  was  Friday, 
or  because  I  was  to  learn  to  give  up  doing  what  I 
wanted  to. 

These  things,  trivial  in  themselves,  and  never  bound 
upon  my  conscience,  only  offered  as  advice,  had  the 
effect  of  breaking  up  the  constant  influence  of  the 
world,  giving  me  a  little  time  for  thought,  and  oppor 
tunity  for  self-denial.  I  cannot  help  thinking  such 
things  are  very  useful  for  young  persons,  and  particu 
larly  those  who  have  only  ordinary  force  and  resolu 
tion.  At  least,  I  think  they  were  made  a  means  of 
security  to  me.  I  was  so  in  earnest  to  do  right,  that 
I  often  thought,  in  terror  for  myself,  in  the  midst  of 
alluring  pleasures  and  delights,. it  was  a  pity  they  had 
not  let  me  be  a  Sister  when  I  wanted  to  at  first.  (I 
really  think  I  had  more  vocation  than  they  thought : 
I  could  have  given  up,  to  the  end  of  life,  without  a 
murmur,  if  that  is  what  is  necessary.)  As  to  the  peo 
ple  who  wanted  to  marry  me,  I  did  not  care  for  any 
of  them,  and  seemed  to  have  much  less  coquetry  than 
of  old.  They  simply  did  not  interest  me,  (of  course, 


300  RICHARD  VANDERMARGK. 

in  a  few  years,  I  had  outgrown  the  love  that  I  had 
supposed  to  be  so  immortal.)  It  was  very  pleasant  to  be 
always  attended  to,  and  to  have  more  constant  homage 
than  any  other  young  woman  whom  I  saw.  But  as 
to  liking  particular^  any  of  the  men  themselves,  it 
never  occurred  to  me  to  think  of  it. 

I  was  placed  by  my  fortunate  circumstances  rather 
above  the  intrigue,  and  detraction,  and  heart-burning, 
that  attends  the  social  struggle  for  life  in  ordinary 
cases.  If  I  were  envied,  I  did  not  know  it,  and  I 
had  small  reason  to  envy  anybody  else,  being  quite 
the  queen. 

I  enjoyed  above  measure,  the  bright  and  pleasant 
things  that  I  had  at  my  command :  the  sunny  rooms 
of  my  pretty  house:  the  driving,  the'  sailing,  the 
dancing :  all  that  charms  a  healthy  young  taste,  and 
is  innocent.  I  took  journeys,  with  the  ecstasy  of 
youth  and  of  good  health.  I  never  shall  forget  the 
pleasure  of  certain  days  and  skies,  and  the  enjoyment 
that  I  had  in  nature.  In  society,  I  had  a  little  more 
weariness,  as  I  grew  older,  and  found  a  certain  want 
of  interest,  as  was  inevitable.  Society  isn't  all  made 
up  of  clever  people,  and  even  clever  people  get  to  be 
'tiresome  in  the  course  of  time.  But  at  twenty-four  I 
was  by  no  means  ~blase^  only  more  addicted  to  books 
and  journeys,  and  less  enthusiastic  about  parties 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  301 

and  croquet,  though  these  I  could  enjoy  a  little 
yet. 

I  had  a  pretty  house  (and  re-furnished  it  very  often, 
which  always  gave  me  pleasure).  I  had  no  care,  for 
Richard  had  arranged  that  I  should  have  a  very 
excellent  sort"  of  person  for  duenna,  who  had  a  good 
deal  of  tact,  and  didn't  bore  me,  and  was  shrewd 
enough  to  make  things  very  smooth.  I  liked  her  very 
much,  though  I  think  now  she  was  something  of  a 
hypocrite.  But  she  had  enough  principle  to  make 
things  very  respectable,  and  I  never  took  her  for  a 
friend.  We  had  very  pretty  little  dinners,  and  little 
evenings  when  anybody  wanted  them,  though  the 
house  wasn't  very  large.  My  duenna  (by  name 
Throckmorton)  liked  journeys  as  well  as  I  did,  and 
never  objected  to  going  anywhere.  Altogether  we 
were  very  comfortable. 

The  people  whom  I  had  known  in  that  first  year  of 
my  social  existence,  had  drifted  away  from  me  a  good 
deal  in  this  new  life.  Sophie  I  could  not  help  meet 
ing  sometimes,  for  she  was  still  a  gay  woman,  but  I 
naturally  belonged  to  a  younger  set,  and  did  not  go 
very  long  into  general  society.  We  still  disliked  each 
other  with  the  cordiality  of  our  first  acquaintance,  but 
I  was  very  sorry  for  it,  and  had  a  great  many  repent 
ances  about  it  after  every  meeting.  Kilian  I  met  a 


302  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

good  deal,  but  we  rather  avoided  each  other,  at  short 
range,  though  exceedingly  good  friends  to  the  general 
observation. 

Mary  Leighton  I  seldom  saw;  no  doubt  she  was 
consumed  with  envy  when  she  heard  of  me,  for  they 
were  poor,  and  not  able  to  keep  up  with  gay  life  as 
would  have  pleased  her.  She  still  maintained  her 
intimacy  with  Kilian,  for  he  had  not  the  resolution  to 
break  off  a  flirtation  of  which,  I  was  sure,  he  must  be 
very  tired. 

Henrietta  had  married  very  well,  two  years  after  1 

saw  her  at  R ,  and  was  the  staid,  placid  matron 

that  she  was  always  meant  to  be. 

Charlotte  Benson  was  the  clever  woman  still :  a 
little  stronger-minded,  and  no  less  good-looking  than 
of  old,  and  no  more.  People  were  beginning  to  say 
that  she  would  not  marry,  though  she  was  only 
twenty-six.  She  did  not  go  much  to  parties,  and  was 
not  in  my  set.  She  affected  art  and  lectures,  and  ex 
cursions  to  mountains,  and  campings-out,  and  uncon- 
ventionalities,  and  no  doubt  had  a  good  time  in  lier 
way.  But  it  was  not  my  way  :  and  so  we  seldom  met. 
When  we  did,  she  did  not  show  much  more  respect 
for  me  than  of  old,  which  always  had  the  effect  of 
making  me  feel  angry. 

And  as  for  Richard,  we  could  not  have  been  much 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  303 

further  apart,  if  he  had  lived  "  in  England  and  I  at 
Rotterdam."  For  a  year,  while  he  was  settling  up 
the  estate,  he  was  closely  in  the  city.  I  did  not  see 
him  more  than  once  or  twice,  all  business  being  trans 
acted  through  his  lawyer,  and  the  clerk  of  whom  he 
had  spoken  to  me.  After  the  business  matters  of  the 
estate  were  all  in  order,  he  went  away,  intending,  I 
believe,  to  stay  a  year  or  two.  But  he  came  back  be 
fore  many  months  were  over,  and  settled  down  into 
the  routine  of  business  life,  which  now  seemed  to  have 
become  necessary  to  him. 

Travel  was  only  a  weariness  to  him  in  his  state  of 
mind;  and  work,  and  city-life,  seemed  the  panacea. 
He  did  not  live  with  Sophie,  but  took  apartments, 
which  he  furnished  plainly ;  and  seemed  settling  down, 
according  to  his  brother,  into  much  of  the  sort  of  life 
that  Uncle  Leonard  had  led  so  many  years  in  Varick- 
street. 

Sophie  still  went  to  R ,  and  I  often  heard  of  the 

pleasant  parties  there  in  summer.  But  Richard  sel 
dom  went,  and  seemed  to  have  lost  his  interest  in  the 
place,  though  I  have  no  doubt  he  spent  more  money 
on  it  than  before.  I  heard  of  many  improvements 
every  year. 

And  Richard  was  now  a  man  of  wealth,  so  much  so 
that  people  talked  about  him ;  and  the  newspapers 


304:  RICHARD  VANDERMAROK 

said,  in  talking  about  real-estate,  or  investments,  or 
institutions  of  charity — "  When  such  men  as  Richard 
Vandermarck  allow  their  names  to  appear,  we  may  be 
sure,"  etc.,  etc.  He  was  now  the  head  of  the  firm, 
and  one  of  the  first  business  men  of  the  city.  He 
seemed  a  great  deal  older  than  he  was ;  thirty-seven  is 
young  to  occupy  the  place  he  held. 

Such  &  parti  could  not  be  let  alone  entirely.  His 
course  was  certainly  discouraging,  and  it  needs  tough 
hopes  to  live  on  nothing.  But  stranger  things  had 
happened  ;  more  obdurate  men  had  yielded ;  and  un 
appropriated  loveliness  hoped  on.  The  story  of  an 
early  attachment  was  afloat  in  connection  with  his 
name.  I  don't  know  whether  I  was  made  to  play  a 
part  in  it  or  not. 

I  saw  him,  perhaps,  twice  a  year,  not  oftener.  His 
manner  was  always,  to  me,  peculiarly  grave  and  kind ; 
to  every  one,  practical  and  unpretending.  I  had 
many  letters  from  him,  particularly  when  I  was  away 
on  journeys.  He  seemed  always  to  want  to  know 
exactly  where  I  was,  and  to  feel  a  care  of  me,  though 
his  letters  never  went  beyond  business  matters,  and 
advice  about  things  I  did  not  understand. 

As  my  guardian,  he  could  not  have  done  less,  nor 
was  it  necessary  that  he  should  do  more  ;  still  I  often 
wished  it  would  occur  to  him  to  come  and  see  me 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  305 

oftener,  and  give  me  an  opportunity  of  showing  him 
how  much  I  had  improved,  and  how  different  I  had 
become.  I  had  the  greatest  respect  for  his  opinion ; 
and  he  had  grown,  unconsciously  to  myself,  to  be  a 
sort  of  oracle  with  me,  and  a  sort  of  hero,  too. 

I  was  apt  to  compare  other  men  with  him,  and  they 
fell  very  far  short  of  his  measure  in  my  eyes.  That 
may  have  been  because  I  saw  him  much  too  seldom, 
and  the  other  men  much  too  often. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

BIEN  PERDU,  BIEN  CONNU. 

Keep,  therefore,  a  true  woman's  eye, 
And  love  me  still,  but  know  not  why ; 
So  hast  thou  the  same  reason  still 
To  doat  upon  me  ever ! 

"  IT'  sveiy  nice  to  be  at  home  again,"  I  said  to 
Mrs.  Throckmorton,  as  I  broke  a  great  lump  of  coal 
in  pieces,  and  watched  the  flames  with  pleasure. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  putting  another 
piece  of  sugar  in  her  coffee,  for  she  was  still  at  the 
table.  "  That  is,  if  you  call  this  home ;  I  must  confess 
it  doesn't  feel  so  to  me  altogether." 

"  Well,  it's  our  own  dear,  noisy,  raging,  racketing, 
bustling  old  city,  if  it  isn't  our  own  house,  and  I'm 
sure  we're  very  comfortable." 

"  Very,"  said  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  who  was  always 
pleased. 

"Every  time  I  hear  .the  tinkle  of  a  car-bell,  or  the 
roar  of  an  omnibus,  I  feel  a  thrill  of  pleasure,"  I  said ; 
"  I  never  was  so  glad  to  get  anywhere  before." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  307 

"  That's  something  new,  isn't  it  ?"  said  Mrs.  Throck 
morton,  briefly. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  think  I  am  always  glad  to  get  back 
home." 

"  And  very  glad  to  go  away  again  too,  my  dear." 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  travel  any  more,"  I  returned. 
"  The  fact  is,  I  am  getting  too  old  to  care  about  it,  I 
believe." 

Mrs.  Throckmorton  laughed,  being  considerably 
over  forty,  and  still  as  fond  of  going  about  as  ever. 

We  were  only  de  retour  two  days.  We  had  started 
eighteen  months  ago,  for  at  least  three  years  in 
Europe,  and  I  had  found  myself  unaccountably  tired 
of  it  at  the  end  of  a  year  and  a  half;  and  here  we 
were. 

Our  house  was  rented,  but  that  I  had  not  allowed 
to  be  any  obstacle,  though  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  who 
was  very  well  satisfied  with  the  easy  life  abroad,  had 
tried  to  make  it  so.  I  had  secured  apartments  which 
were  very  pretty  and  complete.  We  had  found  them 
in  order,  and  we  had  come  there  from  the  steamer.  I 
was  eminently  happy  at  being  where  I  wanted  to  be. 

"  How  odd  it  seems  to  be  in  town  and  have  nobody 
know  it,"  I  said,  thinking,  with  a  little  quiet  satisfac 
tion,  how  pleased  several  people  I  could  name  would 
be,  if  they  only  knew  we  were  so  near  them. 


308  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"Nobody  but  Mr.  Yandermarck,  I  suppose,"  said 
Mrs.  Throckmorton. 

"  Not  even  he,"  I  answered,  "  for  he  can't  have  got 
my  letter  yet ;  it  was  only  mailed  the  day  we  started. 
It  was  only  a  chance,  you  know,  our  getting  those 
staterooms,  and  we  were  in  such  a  hurry.  I  was  so 
much  obliged  to  that  dear,  old  German  gentleman  for 
dying.  "We  shouldn't  have  been  here  if  he  hadn't." 

"  Pauline,  my  dear  !" 

"  Well,  I  can't  think,  as  he's  probably  in  heaven, 
that  he  can  have  begrudged  us  his  tickets  to  New 
York." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  with 
a  little  sigh.  For  New  York  was  not  heaven  to  her, 
and  she  had  spent  a  good  deal  of  the  day  in  looking 
up  the  necessary  servants  for  our  establishment,  which, 
little  as  it  was,  required  just  double  the  number  that 
had  made  us  comfortable  abroad. 

She  had  too  much  discretion  to  trouble  me  with  her 
cares,  however,  so  she  said  cheerfully,  after  a  few  mo 
ments,  by  way  of  diverting  my  mind  and  her  own — 

"  Well,  I  heard  some  news  to-day." 

"  Ah  !" — (I  had  been  unpacking  all  day ;  and  Mrs. 
Throckmorton  in  the  interval  of  servant-hunting  had 
not  been  able  to  refrain  from  a*  visit  or  two,  en  passant, 
to  dear  friends.) 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCE.  3Q9 

"  Yes :  Kilian  Yandermarck  was  married  yesterday." 

"Yesterday!  how  odd.  And  pray,  who  has  he 
married  ?  Not  Mary  Leighton,  I  should  hope." 

"Leighton.  Yes,  that's  the  name.  No  money,  and 
a  little  passe.  Everybody  wonders." 

"  "Well,  he  deserves  it.  That  is  even-handed  jus 
tice,  I'm  not  sorry  for  him.  He's  been  trifling  all 
his  days,  and  now  he's  got  his  punishment.  It  serves 
Sophie  right,  too.  I  know  she  can't  endure  her.  She 
never  thought  there  was  the  slightest  danger.  But 
I'm  sorry  for  Richard,  that  he's  got  to  have  such  a 
girl  related  to  him." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  "I  don't 
know  whether  that'll  affect  him  very  much,  for  they 
say  he's  going  to  be  married  too." 

"  Richard !" 

"  Yes ;  and  to  that  Benson  girl,  you  know." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  Mary  Ann.  She's  heard  it  half  a  dozen  times,  she 
says.  I  believe  it's  rather  an  old  affair.  His  sister 
made  it  up,  I'm  told.  The  young  lady's  been  spend 
ing  the  summer  with  them,  and  this  autumn  it  came 
out." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  ;  only  that's  the  talk.  It 
would  be  odd,  though,  if  we'd  just  come  home  in  time 


310  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

for  the  wedding.  You'll  Lave  to  give  her  something 
handsome,  being  your  guardian,  and  all." 

I  wouldn't  give  her  anything,  and  she  shouldn't 
marry  Richard,  I  thought,  as  I  leaned  back  in  my 
chair  and  looked  into  the  fire  ;  a"  great  silence  having 
fallen  on  us  since  the  delivery  of  that  piece  of  news. 

I  said  I  didn't  believe  it,  and  yet  I'm  afraid  I  did. 
It  wras  so  like  a  man  to  give  in  at  last ;  at  least,  like 
any  man  but  Richard.  He  had  always  liked  Char 
lotte  Benson,  and  known  how  clever  she  was,  and 
Sophie  had  been  so  set  upon  it,  (particularly  since 
Richard  had  had  so  much  money  that  he  had  given 
her  a  handsome  settlement  that  nothing  would  affect.) 
And  now  that  Kilian  was  married  and  would  have 
the  place,  unless  Richard  wanted  it,  it  was  natural 
that  Sophie  should  approve  Richard  having  his  wife 
there  instead  of  Kilian  having  his ;  Kilian's  being  one 
that  nobody  particularly  approved. 

Yes,  it  did  sound  very  much  like  probability.  I 
wasn't  given  to  self-analysis ;  but  I  acknowledged  to 
myself,  that  I  was  very  much  disappointed,  and  that 
if  I  had  known  that  this  was  going  to  happen,  I  should 
have  stayed  in  Europe. 

I  had  never  felt  as  if  there  were  any  chance  of 
Richard  marrying  any  one ;  I  had  not  said  to  myself, 
that  his  love  for  me  still  had  an  existence,  nor  had  I 


RICHAED  VANDERMARCK.  3H 

any  reason  to  believe  it.  But  the  truth  had  been,  I 
had  always  felt  that  he  belonged  to  me,  and  was  my 
right,  and  I  felt  a  bitter  resentment  toward  this  wo 
man,  who  was  supposed  to  have  usurped  my  place. 
How  dared  Richard  love  anybody  else !  I  was  angry 
with  him,  and  very  much  hurt,  and  very,  very  un 
happy. 

Long  after  Mrs.  Throckmorton  went  to  her  middle- 
aged  repose,  I  sat  up  and  went  through  imaginary 
scenes,  and  reviewed  the  situation  a  hundred  times, 
and  tried  to  convince  myself  of  what  I  wanted  to  be 
lieve,  and  ended  without  any  satisfaction. 

One  thing  was  certain.  If  Richard  was  going  to 
marry  Charlotte  Benson,  he  was  not  going  to  do  it  be 
cause  he  loved  her.  He  might  not  be  prevented  from 
doing  it  because  he  loved  me  ;  but  he  did  not  love  her. 
I  could  not  say  why  exactly.  But  I  knew  she  was 
not  the  kind  of  woman  for  him  to  think  of  loving, 
and  I  would  not  believe  it  till  I  heard  it  from  himself, 
and  I  would  hear  it  from  himself  at  the  earliest  pos 
sible  date.  I  did  not  like  to  be  unhappy,  and  was 
very  impatient  to  get  rid  of  this,  if  it  were  not  true, 
and  to  know  the  worst,  at  once,  if  it  were. 

"  My  dear  Throcky,"  I  said  to  my  companion,  at  the 
breakfast-table,  "  I  think  you'd  better  go  and  take  din 
ner  with  your  nieee  to-day.  I've  sent  for  Mr.  Van- 


312  R1UHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

dermarck  to  come  and  dine,  and  I  thought  perhaps 
you'd  rather  not  be  bored ;  we  shall  have  business  to 
talk  about,  and  business  is  such  a  nuisance  when 
you're  not  interested  in  it." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Throckmorton, 
with  indestructible  good-humor. 

"  Or  you  might  have  a  headache,  if  you'd  rather, 
and  I'll  send  your  dinner  up  to  you.  I'll  be  sure 
Susan  takes  you  everything  that's  nice." 

"Well,  then,  I  think  I'll  have  a  headache;  I'm 
afraid  I'd  rather  have  it  than  one  of  Mary  Ann's  poor 
dinners.  (I'd  be  sure  of  one  to-morrow  if  I  went.)" 

"  Paris  things  have  spoiled  you,  I'm  afraid,"  I  said. 
"  Only  see  that  I  have  something  nice  for  Kichard, 
won't  you  ? — How  do  you  think  the  cook  is  going 
to  do  ?"  This  was  the  first  sign  of  interest  I  had  given 
in  the  matter  of  menage  /  by  which  it  will  be  seen  I 
was  still  a  little  selfish,  and  not  very  wise.  But 
Throckmorton  was  a  person  to  cultivate  my  selfish 
ness,  and  there  had  not  been  much  to  develop  the 
wisdom  of  common  life. 

She  promised  me  a  very  pretty  dinner,  no  matter  at 
what  trouble,  and  made  me  feel  quite  easy  about  her 
wounded  feelings.  One  of  the  best  features  of  Throck 
morton  was,  she  hadn't  any  feelings ;  you  might  treat 
her  like  a  galley-slave,  and  she  would  show  the  least 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  313 

dejection.     It  was  a  temptation  to  have  such  a  person 
in  the  house. 

I  had  sent  a  note  to  Richard  which  contained  the 
following : 

"  DEAK  RICHARD  : 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  be  surprised  to  know  we  have 
returned.  But  the  fact  is,  I  got  very  tired  of  Italy ; 
and  we  were  disappointed  in  the  apartments  ^  wanted 
in  Berlin,  and  some  of  the  people  we  expected  to  have 
with  us  had  to,  give  it  up,  and  altogether  it  seemed 
dull,  and  we  thought  it  would  be  just  as  pleasant  to 
come  home.  We  were  able  to  get  staterooms  that 
just  suited  us,  and  it  didn't  seem  worth  while  to  lose 
them  by  waiting  to  send  word.  We  had  a  very  com 
fortable  voyage,  and  I  am  glad  to  find  myself  at  home, 
though  Mrs.  Throckmorton  doesn't  think  the  rooms 
are  very  nice.  I  want  to  know  if  you  won't  come  to 
dinner.  We  dine  at  six.  Send  a  line  back  by  the  boy. 
I  want  to  ask  you  about  some  business  matters. 
"  Affectionately  yours, 

"  PAULINE." 

And  I  had  received  for  answer : 

"Mr  DEAE  PAULINE: 

"  Of  course  I  am  astonished  to  think  you  are  at  home. 
14  - 


314  RICHARD   VANDERMARCK. 

I  enclosed  you  several  letters  by  the  steamer  yester 
day,  none  of  them  of  any  very   great   importance, 
though,  I  think.     I  will  come  up  at  six. 
"  Always  yours, 

"  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 
"  P.  S.    I  am  very  glad  you  wanted  to  come  home." 

I  read  this  letter  over  a  great  many  times,  but  it  did 
not  enlighten  me  at  all  as  to  his  intentions  about 
marrying  Charlotte  Benson.  It  was  very  matter-of- 
fact,  but  that  Richard's  letters  always  were.  Evi 
dently  he  had  thought  the  same  of  it  himself,  as  he 
read  it  over,  and  had  added  the  postscript.  But  that 
did  not  seem  very  enthusiastic.  Altogether  I  was  not 
happy,  waiting  for  six  o'clock  to  come. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A   DINNEK. 

Time  and  chance  are  but  a  tide, 
Slighted  love  is  sair  to  bide. 

THE  dining-room  and  parlor  of  our  little  suite  ad 
joined  ;  the  door  was  standing  open  between  them, 
as  I  walked  up  and  down  the  parlor,  waiting  nerv 
ously  for  Richard  to  arrive.  The  fire  was  bright,  and 
the  only  light  in  the  parlor  was  a  soft,  pretty  lamp, 
which  we  had  brought  from  Italy.  There  were 
flowers  on  the  table,  and  in  two  or  three  vases,  and 
the  curtains  were  pretty,  and  there  were  several  large 
mirrors.  Outside,  it  was  the  twilight  of  a  dark  au 
tumnal  day ;  almost  night  already,  and  the  lamps  were 
lit.  It  lacked  several  minutes  of  six  when  Eichard 
came.  I  felt  very  much  agitated  when  he  entered 
the  room.  It  was  a  year  and  a  half  since  I  had  seen 
him :  besides,  this  piece  of  news !  But  he  looked 
just  the  same  as  ever,  and  I  had  not  the  self-possession 
to  note  whether  he  seemed  agitated  at  meeting  me.  I 
do  not  know  exactly  what  we  talked  about  for  the  first 


316  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

few  moments,  probably  I  was  occupied  in  trying  to 
excuse  myself  for  coming  home  so  suddenly,  for  I 
found  Richard  was  not  altogether  pleased  at  not  having 
been  informed,  and  thought  there  must  be  something- 
yet  to  tell.  He  was  not  used  to  feminine  caprice,  and 
I  began  to  feel  a  good  deal  ashamed  of  myself.  I  had 
to  remind  myself,  more  than  once,  that  I  was  not  re 
sponsible  to  any  one. 

"  I  just  felt  like  it,"  was  such  a  very  weak  expla 
nation  to  offer  to  this  grave  business-man,  for  dis 
arranging  two  years  of  carefully-laid  plans. 

I  found  I  was  getting  to  be  a  little  afraid  of  Rich 
ard  :  we  had  been  so  long  apart,  and  he  had  grown  so 
much  older. 

"  I  hope,  at  least,  you  are  not  going  to  scold  me  for 
it,"  I  said  at  last,  with  a  little  laugh,  feeling  that  was 
my  best  way  out  of  it.  "  I  shall  think  you  are  not 
glad  to  see  me." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  gravely  ;  "  and  as 
to  scolding,  it's  so  long  since  you've  given  me  an  op 
portunity,  I  should  not  know  how  to  go  to  work." 

"  Do  you  mean,  because  I've  been  away  so  long,  or 
because  I've  been  so  good?" 

Susan,  who  had  been  watching  her  opportunity, 
now  appeared  in  the  dining-room  door,  and  said  that 
dinner  was  on  the  table. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  317 

Richard  asked  for  Mrs.  Throckmorton  when  we  sat 
down  to  dinner.  I  told  him  she  was  dining  with  her 
niece.  (She  had  reconsidered  the  question  of  the 
headache,  and  had  gone  to  hear  more  news.)  The 
dinner  was  very  nice,  and  very  nicely  served  ;  but 
somehow,  Richard  did  not  seem  to  enjoy  it  very 
much,  that  is,  not  as  I  had  been  in  the  habit  lately  of 
seeing  men  enjoy  their  meals. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  getting  like  Uncle  Leonard, 
and  only  care  about  Wall-street,"  I  said.  "  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  you  forgot  to  order  your  dinner  half  the 
time,  and  took  the  same  thing  for  breakfast  every 
morning  in  the  year." 

"That's  just  exactly  how  it  is,"  he  said.  "If 
Sophie  did  not  come  down  to  my  quarters  every 
week  or  two,  and  regulate  affairs  a  little,  I  don't 
know  where  I  should  be,  in  the  matter  of  my  din 
ners." 

"  How  is  Sophie  ?"  I  said. 

"  Yery  well.  I  saw  her  yesterday.  I  went  to  put 
Charley  in  College  for  her." 

"  I  can't  think  of  Charley  as  a  young  man." 

"  Yes,  Charley  is  a  strapping  fellow,  within  two 
inches  of  my  height." 

"  Impossible  !    And  where  is  Benny  ?" 

"  At  school  here  in  town.     His  mother  will  not  let 


318  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

him  go  to  boarding-school.  He  is  a  nice  boy :  I  think 
there's  more  in  him  than  Charley." 

"  And  I  hear  Kilian  is  married !" 

"Yes.  Kilian  is  married — the  very  day  yon 
landed,  too." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  with  a  little  dash  of  temper,  "  I'm 
very  sorry  for  you  all.  I  did  not  think  Kilian  was 
going  to  be  so  foolish." 

"  He  thinks  he's  very  wise,  though,  all  the  same," 
said  Richard,  with  a  smile,  which  turned  into  a  sigh 
before  he  had  done  speaking. 

"  I  do  dislike  her  so,"  I  exclaimed,  warmly.  "  There 
isn't  an  honest  or  straightforward  thing  about  her. 
She  is  weak,  too  ;  her  only  strength  is  her  suppleness 
and  cunning." 

"  I  know  you  never  liked  her,"  said  Richard, 
gravely ;  "  but  I  hope  you'll  try  to  think  better  of 
her  now." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  never  have  to  see  her,"  I  answered, 
with  angry  warmth. 

Richard  was  silent,  and  I  was  very  much  ashamed 
of  myself  a  moment  after.  I  had  meant  him  to  see 
how  much  improved  I  was;  and  how  well  disciplined. 
This  was  a  pretty  exhibition  !  I  had  not  spoken  so 
of  any  one  for  a  year,  at  least.  I  colored  with 
mortification  and  penitence.  Richard  evidently 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  319 

saw  it,  and  felt  sorry  for  me,  for  he  said,  most 
kindly, 

"  I  can  understand  exactly  how  you  feel,  Pauline. 
This  marriage  is  a  great  trial  to  me.  I  have  done  all 
I  could  to  keep  Kilian  from  throwing  himself  away, 
but  I  might  as  well  have  argued  with  the  winds." 

"  I  don't  care  how  much  Kilian  throws  himself 
away,"  I  said,  impulsively.  "  He  deserves  it  for 
keeping  around  her  all  these  years.  But  I  do  mind 
that  she  is  your  sister,  and  that  she  will  be  mistress 
of  the  house  at  R ." 

There  was  an  awful  silence  then.  Heavens !  what 
had  I  been  thinking  about  to  have  said  that !  I  had 
precipitated  the  denouement,  and  I  had  not  meant  to. 
I  did  not  want  to  hear  it  that  moment,  if  he  were  go 
ing  to  marry  Charlotte  Benson,  nor  did  I  want  to  hear 
it,  if  he  were  saving  the  old  place  for  me.  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  given  the  blow  that  would  bring  the  whole 
structure  clown,  and  I  waited  for  the  crash  in  fright 
ened  silence. 

In  the  meantime  the  business  of  the  table  went  on. 
I  ate  half  a  chicken  croquette,  and  Susan  placed  the 
salad  before  Richard,  and  another  plate.  He  did  not 
speak  till  he  had  put  the  salad  on  his  plate ;  then-  he 
said,  without  looking  at  me,  in  a  voice  a  good  deal 
lower  than  was  usual  to  him, 


320  RIGIfARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  She  is  not  to  be  mistress  of  that  house.  They  will 
live  in  town." 

Then  I  felt  cold  and  chilled  to  my  very  heart ;  it 
was  well  that  he  did  not  expect  me  to  speak,  for  I 
could  not  have  commanded  my  voice  enough  to  have 
concealed  my  agitation.  I  knew  very  well  from  that 
moment  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Charlotte  Benson. 
Something  that  was  said  a  little  later  was  a  confirma 
tion. 

I  had  recovered  myself  enough  to  talk  about  ordi 
nary  things,  and  to  keep  strictly  to  them,  too.  Richard 
was  talking  of  the  great  heat  of  the  past  summer.  I 
had  said  it  had  been  unparalleled  in  France ;  had  he 
not  found  it  very  uncomfortable  here  in  town  ? 

"  I  have  been  out  of  town  so  much,  I  can  hardly  say 
how  it  has  been  here,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  all  of 
August  in  the  country;  only  coming  to  the  city 
twice." 

My  heart  sank  :  that  was  just  what  they  had  said ; 
he  had  been  a  great  deal  at  home  this  summer,  and 
she  had  been  there  all  the  time. 

The  dinner  was  becoming  terribly  ennuyant,  and  I 
wished  with  all  my  heart  Throckinorton  had  been 
contented  with  just  half  the  courses.  Richard  did 
not  seem  to  enjoy  them,  and  I — I  was  so  wretched  I 
could  scarcely  say  a  word,  much  less  eat  a  morsel.  It 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  321 

had  been  a  great  mistake  to  invite  him  to  take  dinner ; 
it  was  being  too  familiar,  when  he  had  put  me  at  such 
a  distance  all  these  years :  I  wished  for  Mrs.  Throck- 
morton  with  all  my  heart.  Why  had  I  sent  her  off? 
Richard  was  evidently  so  constrained,  and  it  was  in 
such  bad  taste  to  have  asked  him  here ;  it  could  not 
help  putting  thoughts  in  both  our  minds,  sitting  alone 
at  a  table  opposite  each  other,  as  we  should  have  been 
sitting  daily  if  that  horrid  will  had  not  been  found. 
He  had  dined  with  us  just  twice  before,  but  that  was  at 
dinner-parties,  when  there  had  been  ever  so  many 
people  between  us,  and  when  I  had  not  said  six  words 
to  him  during  the  whole  evening. 

The  only  excuse  I  could  offer,  and  that  he  could 
understand,  would  be  that  I  wanted  to  talk  business 
to  him  ;  I  had  said  in  my  note  that  I  wanted  to  consult 
him  about  something,  and  I  must  keep  that  in  mind. 
I  had  wanted  to  ask  him  about  a  house  I  thought  of 
buying,  adjoining  the  Sisters'  Hospital,  to  enlarge 
their  work ;  but  I  was  so  wicked  and  worldly,  I  felt 
just  then  as  if  I  did  not  care  whether  they  had  a 
house  or  not,  or  whether  they  did  any  work.  How 
ever,  I  resolved  to  speak  about  it,  when  we  had  got 
away  from  the  table,  if  we  ever  did. 

Susan  kept  bringing  dish  after  dish. 

"  Oh,  we  don't  want  any  of  that !"  I  exclaimed,  at 
14* 


322  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

last,  impatiently ;  "  do  take  it  away,  and  tell  them  to 
send  in  the  coffee." 

I  was  resolved  upon  one  thing :  Richard  should  tell 
me  of  his  engagement  before  he  went  away ;  it  would 
be  dishonorable  and  unkind  if  he  did  not,  and  I  should 
make  him  do  it.  I  was  not  quite  sure  that  I  had  self- 
control  enough  not  to  show  how  it  made  me  feel, 
when  it  came  to  hearing  it  all  in  so  many  words.  But 
in  very  truth,  I  had  not  much  pride  as  regarded  him ; 
I  felt  so  sore-hearted  and  unhappy,  I  did  not  care  much 
whether  he  knew  it  or  suspected  it. 

I  could  not  help  remembering  how  little  conceal 
ment  he  had  made  of  his  love  for  me,  even  when  he 
knew  that  all  the  heart  I  had  was  given  to  another. 
I  would  be  very  careful  not  to  precipitate  the  disclos 
ure,  however,  while  we  sat  at  table ;  it  is  so  disagree 
able  to  talk  to  any  one  on  an  agitating  subject  vis-d-vis 
across  a  little  dinner-table,  with  a  bright  light  over 
head,  and  a  servant  walking  around,  able  to  stop  and 
study  you  from  any  point  she  pleases. 

Coffee  came  at  last,  though  even  that,  Susan  was 
unwilling  to  look  upon  as  the  legitimate  finale,  and 
had  her  views  about  liqueur,  instructed  by  Throck- 
morton.  But  I  cut  it  short  by  getting  up  and  saying, 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad  to  go  into  the  parlor ;  it 
gets  warm  so  soon  in  these  little  rooms." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  323 

The  parlor  was  very  cool  and  pleasant ;  a  window 
had  been  open,  and  the  air  was  fresh,  and  the  flowers 
were  delicious,  and  the  lamp  was  softer  and  pleasanter 
than  the  gas.  I  went  to  break  up  the  coal  and  make 
the  fire  blaze,  and  Richard  to  shut  the  window  down. 

When  I  had  pulled  a  chair  up  to  the  fire  and  seated 
myself,  he  stood  leaning  on  the  mantelpiece,  on  the 
other  side  from  me.  I  felt  sure  he  meant  to  go,  the 
minute  that  he  could  get  away — a  committee  meeting, 
no  doubt,  or  some  such  nauseous  fraud.  But  he  should 
not  go  away  until  he  had  told  me,  that  was  certain. 

""What  is  it  that  you  wanted  to  ask  me  about, 
Pauline  ? "  he  said,  rather  abruptly. 

My  heart  gave  a  great  thump ;  how  could  he  have 
known  1  Oh,  it  was  the  business  that  I  had  spoken 
of  in  my  stupid  note.  Yes  ;  and  I  began  to  explain  to 
him  what  I  wanted  to  do  about  the  hospital. 

He  looked  infinitely  relieved.  I  believe  he  had  an 
idea  it  was  something  very  different.  My  explanation 
could  not  have  added  much  to  his  reverence  for  my 
business  ability.  I  was  very  indefinite,  and  could  not 
tell  him  whether  it  was  hundreds  or  thousands  that  I 
meant. 

He  said,  with  a  smile,  he  thought  it  must  be  thou 
sands,  as  city  property  was  so  very  high.  He  was  very 
kind,  however,  about  the  matter,  and  did  not  discour- 


324-  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

age  me  at  all.  He  always  seemed  to  approve  of  my 
desire  to  give  away  in  charity,  and,  within  bounds, 
always  furthered  such  plans  of  doing  good.  He  said 
he  would  look  into  it,  and  would  write  me  word  next 
week  what  his  impression  was ;  and  then,  I  think,  he 
meant  to  go  away. 

Then  I  began  talking  on  every  subject  I  could 
think  of,  hoping  some  of  the  roads  would  lead  to 
Rome.  But  none  of  them  led  there,  and  I  was  in 
despair. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  want  to  look  at  some  photographs  ?" 
I  said,  at  last,  thinking  I  saw  an  opening  for  my  wedge. 
I  got  the  package,  and  he  came  to  the  table  and  looked 
at  them,  standing  up.  They  wrere  naturally  of  much 
more  interest  to  me  than  to  him,  being  of  places  and 
people  with  which  I  had  so  lately  been  familiar. 

But  he  looked  at  them  very  kindly,  and  asked  a 
good  many  questions  about  them. 

"  Look  at  this,"  I  said,  handing  him  an  Antwerp 
peasant-woman  in  her  hideous  bonnet.  "Isn't  that 
ridiculously  like  Charlotte  Benson  ?  I  bought  it  be 
cause  it  was  so  singular  a  resemblance." 

."It  is  like  her,"  he  said,  thoughtfully,  looking  at  it 
long.  "  The  mouth  is  a  little  larger  and  the  eyes 
further  apart.  But  it  is  a  most  striking  likeness.  It 
might  almost  have  been  taken  for  her." 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  325 

"  How  is  she,  and  when  have  yon  seen  her  ?"  I  said, 
a  little  choked  for  breath. 

"  She  is  very  well.  I  saw  her  yesterday,"  he 
answered,  still  looking  at  the  little  picture. 

"  Was  she  with  Sophie  this  summer?" 

"  Yes,  for  almost  two  months." 

"  I  hope  she  doesn't  keep  everybody  in  order  as 
sharply  as  she  used  to  ?"  I  said,  with  a  bitter  little 
laugh. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  I  think,  perhaps,  she 
is  rather  less  decided  than  she  used  to  be." 

"  Oh,  you  call  it  decision,  do  you  ?  "Well,  I'm  glad 
I  know  what  it  is.  I  used  to  think  it  hadn't  such  a 
pretty  name  as  that." 

Richard  looked  grave ;  it  certainly  was  not  a  grace 
ful  way  to  lead  up  to  congratulations. 

"  But  then,  you  always  liked  her,"  I  said. 
-  "  Yes,  I  always  liked  her,"  he  answered,  simply. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  very  amiable,"  I  retorted, 
"  for  I  never  liked  her :  no  better  even  than  that  fraud 
ulent  Mary  Leighton,  clever  and  sensible  as  she  always 
was.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too  clever,  and 
too  sensible,  and  making  yourself  an  offence  to  all 
less  admirable  people." 

Richard  was  entirely  silent,  and,  I  was  sure,  was 
disapproving  of  me  very  much. 


326  EIGHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  heard  yesterday  ?"  I  said,  in 
a  daring  way.  "  And  I  hope  you're  going  to  tell  me 
if  it's  true,  to-night  ?" 

"  What  was  it  that  you  heard  yesterday  ?"  he  asked, 
without  much  change  of  tone.  He  had  laid  down  the 
photograph,  and  had  gone  back,  and  was  leaning  by 
the  mantelpiece  again. 

"  Why,  I  heard  that  you  were  going  to  marry 
Charlotte  Benson.  Is  it  true  ?" 

I  had  pushed  away  the  pile  of  photographs  from 
me,  and  had  looked  up  at  him  when  I  began,  but  my 
voice  and  courage  rather  failed  before  the  end,  and  my 
eyes  fell.  There  was  a  silence — a  silence  that  seemed 
to  stifle  me. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that  question  ?"  he  said,  at 
last,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Do  you  believe  I  am,  your 
self?" 

"  No,"  I  cried,  springing  up,  and  going  over  to  his 
side.  "  JSTo,  I  don't  believe  it.  Tell  me  it  isn't  true, 
and  promise  me  you  won't  ever,  ever  marry  Charlotte 
Benson." 

The  relief  was  so  unspeakable  that  I  didn't  care 
what  I  said,  and  the  joy  I  felt  showed  itself  in  my 
face  and  voice.  I  put  out  my  hand  to  him  when  I 
said  "  promise  me,"  but  he  did  not  take  it,  and  turned 
his  head  away  from  me. 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK  32Y 

"I  shall  not  marry  Charlotte  Benson,'5  he  said; 
"but  I  cannot  understand  what  difference  it  makes  to 
you." 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  be  silent,  and  I  shrank  back 
a  step  or  two  in  great  confusion. 

He  raised  his  head,  and  looked  steadily  at  me  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said : 

"  Pauline,  you  did  a  great  many  things,  but  I  don't 
think  you  ever  willingly  deceived  me.  Did  you  ?" 

I  shook  my  head  without  looking  up. 

"  Then  be  careful  what  you  do  now,  and  let  the 
past  alone,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  almost  stern. 

I  trembled,  and  turned  pale. 

"  Women  sometimes  play  with  dangerous  weapons,." 
he  said;  " I  don't  accuse  you  of  meaning  to  give 
pain,  but  only  of  forgetting  that  some  recollections 
are  not  to  you  what  they  are  to  me.  I  never  want  to 
interfere  with  any  one's  comfort  or  enjoyment ;  I  only 
want  to  be  let  alone.  I  do  very  well,  and  am  not  un 
happy.  About  marrying,  now  or  ever,  I  should  have 
thought  you  would  have  known.  But  let. me  tell  you 
once  for  all :  I  haven't  any  thought  of  it,  and  shall 
not  ever  have.  It  is  not  that  I  am  holding  to  any 
foolish  hopes.  It  would  be  exactly  the  same  if  you 
were  married,  or  had  died.  It  simply  isn't  in  my 
nature  to  feel  the  same  way  a  second  time.  People 


328  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

are  made  differently,  that  is  all.     I'm  very  well  con 
tented,  and  you  need  never  let  it  worry  you." 

He  was  very  pale  now,  and  his  eyes  had  an  ex 
pression  I  had  never  seen  in  them  before. 

"  Richard,"  I  said,  faintly,  "  I  never  have  deceived 
you :  believe  me  now  when  I  tell  you,  I  am  sorry 
from  my  heart  for  all  that's  past." 

"  You  told  me  so  before,  and  I  did  forgive  you.  I 
forgave  you  fully,  and  have  never  had  a  thought  that 
wasn't  kind." 

"  I  know  it,  "  I  said.  "  But  you  do  not  trust  me — 
you  don't  ever  come  near  me,  or  want  to  see  me." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking  of,"  he 
answered,  turning  from  me.  "  I  forgive  you  anything 
you  may  have  done  at  any  time  to  give  me  pain.  I 
will  do  everything  I  can  to  serve  you,  in  every  way 
I  can  ;  only  do  not  stir  up  the  past,  and  let  me  forget 
the  little  of  it  that  I  can  forget." 

-I  burst  into  tears,  and  put  my  hands  before  my 
face. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  said,  uneasily.  "  You  need  not 
be  troubled  about  me." 

Seeing  that  I  did  not  stop,  he  said  again,  "  Tell 
me :  is  it  that  that  troubles  you  ?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  "What  is  it,  then  ?     Something  that  I  do  not  know 


RICHARD  VANDERMARCK.  329 

about?  Pauline,  you  are  unhappy,  and  yet  you've 
everything  in  the  world  to  make  you  happy.  I  often 
think,  there  are -not  many  women  have  as  much." 

"  The  poorest  of  them  are  better  off  than  I,"  I  said, 
without  raising  my  head. 

"JThen  you  are  ungrateful,"  he  said,  "  for  you  have 
youth,  and  health,  and  money,  and  everybody  likes 
you.  You  could  choose  from  all  the  world." 

"  No,  I  couldn't,"  I  exclaimed,  like  a  child ;  "  and 
everybody  doesn't  like  me," — and  then  I  cried  again, 
for  I  was  really  in  despair,  and  thought  he  meant  to 
put  me  away,  memory  and  all. 

"  Well,  if  that's  your  trouble,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  suppose  I  cannot  help  you  ;  but  I'm  very  sorry." 

"  Yes,  you  can  help  me,"  I  cried  imploringly,  for 
getting  all  I  ought  to  have  remembered ;  "  if  you 
only  would  forgive  me,  really  and  in  earnest,  and  be 
friends  again — and  let  me  try — "  and  I  covered  my 
face  with  my  hands. 

"  Pauline,"  he  said,  standing  by  iny  side,  and  his 
voice  almost  frightened  me,  it  was  so  strong  with  feel 
ing  ;  "  is  this  a  piece  of  sentiment  ?  Do  you  mean 
anything  ?  Or  am  I  to  be  trifled  with  again  ?" 

He  took  hold  of  my  wrists  with  both  his  hands, 
with  such  force  as  to  give  me  pain,  and  drew  them 
from  my  face. 


330  RICHARD  VANDERMARCK. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  me  what  you 
mean;  and 'decide  now — forever  and  forever.  For 
this  is  the  last  time  that  you  will  have  a  chance  to 
say." 

"  It's  all  very  well,"  I  said,  trying  to  turn  my  face 
away  from  him.  ^  It's  all  very  well  to  talk  about 
loving  me  yet,  and  being  just  the  same  ;  but  this  isn't 
the  way  you  used  to  talk,  and  I  think  it's  very  hard — " 

"  That  isn't  answering  me,"  he  said,  holding  me 
closer 4o  him. 

"  What  shall  I  say,"  I  whispered,  hiding  my  face 
upon  his  arm.  "  Nothing  will  ever  satisfy  you." 

"  Nothing  ever  has  satisfied  me,"  he  said,  " — before." 


THE    END. 


"The  very  best,  the  most  sensible,  tl\e  most  practical, 
tl\e  most  honest  book  or\  th^is  matter  of  getting  up  good 
dinners,  and  livir\g  ir\  a  decer\t  Christian,  way,  th,at  has  yet 
four\d  its  way  ir\  our  household." — Watchman  and  Reflector. 


COMMON  SENSE 

In  the  Household.    ' 
A  MANUAL  OF  PRACTICAL  HOUSEWIFERY, 

By  MARION    HARLAND, 

Author   of   "Alone,"    "Hidden    Paths,"    "Nemesis,"   &e.,  &c. 

One  vol.  i2mo,  cloth.     Price $i  75 


SEE  WHA  T  THE  CRITICS,  AND  PR  A  CTICA  L  HOUSEKEEPERS,  say  of  it : 

"  And  now  we  have  from  another  popular  novelist  a  cookery  book,  whereof  our  house 
keeper  (this  literary  recorder  is  not  a  bachelor)  speaks  most  enthusiastically.  She  says 
•  that  simplicity  and  clearness  of  expression,  accuracy  of  detail,  a  regard  to  economy  of 
material,  and  certainty  of  good  results,  are  requisites  in  a  useful  receipt-book  for  the 
kitchen,  and  Marion  Harland  has  comprehended  all  these.  That  she  has  by  experience 
proved  the  unsatisfactoriness  of  housekeepers'  helps  in  general  is  shown  by  the  arrange 
ment  of  her  book.  She  has  appended  a  star  to  such  recipes  as,  after  having  tried  them 
herself,  she  can  recommend  as  safe  and  generally  simple.  Such  a  directory  will  be  a 
great  help  to  one  who  goes  to  the  book  for  aid  in  preparing  a  pleasant  and  savory  meal 
without  much  experience  in  cooking.  The  language  is  so  simple,  and  the  directions  so 
plain,  that  a  reasonably  intelligent  cook  might  avail  herself  of  it  to  vary  her  manner  of 
preparing  even  ordinary  dishes.  The  introduction  to  the  book  should  be  printed  as  a 
tract  and  put  in  every  house.  The  simple  advice  for  the  management  of  servants,  the 
general  directions  at  the  head  of  each  department  of  cooking,  and  the  excellent  pages  on 
the  sick-room,  make  as  complete  an  aid  to  housekeepers  as  can  well  be  desired." — Har* 
per*s  Monthly. 

"In  the  hands  of  the  author,  whose  name  is  well  known  in  another  department  of 
literature,  the  subject  has  been  treated  with  thoroughness  and  skill,  showing  that  a  little 
common  sense  may  be  as  successful  in  the  concoction  of  a  toothsome  viand  as  in  the  com 
position  of  a  romance." — N.  Y.  Daily  Tribune. 

"  It  inspires  us  with  a  great  respect  for  the  housewifery  of  a  literary  lady,  and  we 
cannot  err  in  predicting  for  it  a  wide  popularity." — N".  V.  Evening' Post. 

"Unites  the  merits  of  a  trustworthy  receipt-book  with  the  freshness  of  a  familiar 
talk  on  household  affairs." — Albany  Evening  Journal. 

"  The  directions  are  clear,  practical,  and  so  good  in  their  way  that  the  only  wonder  is, 
how  any  one  head  could  hold  so  many  pots,  kettles,  and  pans,  and  such  a  world  of  gas 
tronomic  good  things." — Hearth  and  Home. 

"The  recipes  are  clearly  expressed,  easy  to  follow,  and  not  at  all  expensive.  The 
suggestions  about  household  affairs  are  chic.  On  a  test  comparison  with  three  other 
American  cook-books,  it  comes  out  ahead  upon  every  count.  Beyond  this  exferto  crede 
nothing  more  need  be  said." — Christian  Union. 

Copies  sent  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO., 

654  liroadtvay,  New  York. 


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2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  callinq 

(415)  642-6753 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days 

prior  to  due  date 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


SEP  2  7  1991 


N9  817022 

Harris,  M.C. 
Richard  Vandermarck, 


PS1819 

H5 

R5 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


